The Christmas Exclusive
by Verkaiking
Summary: When the chance presents itself for a promotion at her work, gossip reporter Regina Mills embarks on a mission to uncover the latest scandal in the Locksley family and nail the magazine's Christmas issue, but what happens when circumstances land her on the arms of the very man she'd been willing to destroy for her story? - Fluffy Christmas OQ story, based on the movie Snow Bride.
1. Chapter 1

**_Based on an adorable Christmas movie I watched the other day... There'll be one chapter a day from today til Christmas._**

 ** _Let me know what you think!_**

 ** _As always, I own nothing._**

* * *

The streets of New York City are crowded, bitter wind hitting the heavy coats draped over the many men and women milling about as they head to work on Monday morning. There's snow stacked in every corner, melting into cold, slushy puddles that splash against her expensive boots whenever someone nearby steps on them carelessly, and still Regina Mills cannot help but smile when she reaches the newsstand she passes by every morning on her way to the subway, her gaze instantly finding the engrossing cover of _Kings and Queens Magazine_ lining the shelves, and she buys a copy like she does every week, stares at the scandalous title of their newest headline, emblazoned in blue against the neutral backdrop of action movie star Gaston Thicke's fair complexion.

It's an egregious process to be a gossip reporter, but sometimes, just sometimes, she'll catch someone like Gaston (a rich Hollywood hunk that fancies himself an actor) making sex tapes with prostitutes behind his spouse's back, and she feels justified in her current career path (she keeps saying she's only doing this until an actual writing job appears, but it's been years already, and she's used to the work environment by now). Thanks to her, there will most likely be a messy divorce in the cards for Gaston, and since there was no prenup, his indie songwriter wife Belle French will probably get half his millions, and Regina feels a zing of pride slither through her as she climbs onto the express, because she's just inadvertently helped a cheated woman make bank by uncovering evidence of her husband's very salacious extra-marital hobbies, and it feels damn good.

She knows the layout of the glossy paper by heart, after playing around with it so much before it went to print, but there's something about seeing the end result, some sense of pride and closure as she stares at her piece and beams, sipping her doctored Americano as her train speeds on. HD stills from the various sex tapes color the pages under a NSFW warning, little yellow stars covering nipples and other areas, the sordid details of the affairs added as text under each photo… It's glorious, the biggest story the magazine has done in recent months, and she's responsible for it, has earned a very nice paycheck because of it, and so the muddy banks of melting snow, the freezing wind and the overcast sky of a dreary winter's day in New York City, do nothing to dampen Regina's very satisfied mood as she walks the two blocks from the subway to her office building and strolls into work, pleasantly greeting her assistant Ruby with a high-five and mockingly saluting Mal, her boss, who smiles and congratulates her yet again before telling her to stop by her office on her lunch break.

Her day is slow, relaxed, nothing major to do except post a few articles on their newly launched online version of the magazine, with sneak peeks to future issues and new content added daily to keep people interested.

In an effort to get more involved with the audience and boost the relevancy of K&Q, Regina has set up a new section through the mag's Twitter account, encouraging readers to visit the site and drop hints of possible celebrity scoop on their inbox, promising two red carpet passes to the premiere of Hollywood sensation Wendy Darling's newest movie to whoever sends in the winning tip. She goes through the new submissions, but sees nothing of substance so far, so the rest of her morning is spent in what Mal calls "subject study", which basically amounts to reading up on celebrities or influential members of society that have been recently featured in other magazines and public events. It's the way they stay on top of things, researching and analyzing their targets' every move until one of them shows signs of a possible story coming up (or a source reveals an important detail that can turn into an article). Mal is usually the one who picks their subjects, drops a different information packet for each of her writers every morning when she arrives.

Regina looks through the newspaper articles and pictures in the folder that's been left on her desk, as well as the email full of links to important tweets and posts about her assigned targets for the day: the Locksley family. She knows who they are, of course, their influence and good looks makes famous individuals of them all. Though they're not necessarily what Regina would call a problematic group of people, the general audience seems to be fascinated by them, and a couple of disgraceful little incidents pertaining to them have been published by K&Q before.

The family has also suffered its fair share of tragedy. Almost four years ago now, Senator Locksley and his wife died in a car crash just outside of Boston, when they were headed there for some state affair. Their two sons are now the most prominent figures, with their widowed aunt Shirley Lucas acting as the matriarch behind the scenes, handling her deceased sister's charities and managing both of her nephews' careers.

Walsh is the youngest of the Locksley men, a thirty year-old accountant working for high profile companies and making hundreds of thousands of dollars. There's not much known about him except that he has a taste for expensive cars and even more expensive company, dating only socialites and famous supermodels. He's a marvel at his job, but a complete party boy the moment he's off the clock. Robin, the older brother at thirty-four, is a whole other story. Raised in a London boarding school until he was seventeen, he'd been the one expected to continue his father's legacy in politics. He'd been given the best education, exposed to the cultural and intellectual wonders of the world from a very young age, and shaped into a smart man with a law degree from Yale and every tool to carry out his family's political ambition, except that he hasn't, at least not yet, has opted instead for a quiet life and kept a low profile from the press, save for his very controversial relationship with socialite Zelena Greene, which ended messily a little under a year ago.

They're dull, Regina thinks, just another boring pair of trust fund babies that don't have much going on in the way of feelings or human decency, spoiled brats who insist on showing off how much better they live than everyone else, hosting parties and galas every other week, wearing the most expensive outfits, charging five thousand dollars a plate at charity dinners and donating insane amounts of cash as a way to "give back to the community", something that Regina can only see as a blatant attempt at a tax break, just like every other wealthy family in this town.

When lunch time rolls around, she's on the phone, so she sends Ruby out for a salad, the one with blue cheese and walnuts and apples that she likes so much from the place down the street, tells her to grab something for herself as well and put it on her tab. When she gets back to her call, it's nothing but jokes and laughter. She's talking with Elle Tinker, a dear friend and the Chief Editor of Neverland, a Manhattan-based publishing house. Elle is a big fairytale fan, has been since before Regina met her at one of the company parties. The woman is a tiny, sprite looking thing, with blue eyes that are always bright and happy, a small, delicate nose that she tends to turn up at Regina's cynic views on romance, and messy blond locks that resemble sunshine itself, kept in check by the stylish bun she wraps them in atop her head.

"Did you seriously throw the guy's manuscript out the window?!" Regina asks, baffled at her friend's tale.

"It was a terrible manuscript!" says the woman on the other end, as if that justifies her.

"That poor, poor man," Regina murmurs.

"He wrote about a woman who rips out hearts!"

"Oh, so he met my mother, then," Regina quips.

"The entire story was hollow and lacked proper character development," Elle continues on her tirade.

"So you threw it out the window of your sixteenth floor office?" Regina asks disbelievingly.

"He wrote trash, he had it coming," her friend replies, resolute.

"That New Zealand accent of yours gets thicker when you're exasperated, did you know that?" she notes, and Elle huffs that that's the least of her problems right now.

"I need a good story, Regina," she tells her dejectedly, "and I can't find one."

"Don't you think maybe you're being too demanding? The heart-ripping lady can't have been so bad."

"It was, and I am _not_ being too demanding!" she petulantly protests, "I just want something I don't gag at when I read it."

"Let me guess, you want a love story?"

"Well, yes!" she admits, "I want something beautiful and enthralling, something so wonderful it makes me weep, is that too much to ask?!"

She teases her again for being a hopeless romantic, and Elle counters she's not hopeless, but hope _ful_. They say their goodbyes, and Regina wishes her friend luck in finding her new novel, hangs up, and makes her way to Mal's office while her food arrives.

When Regina knocks on the door that's been left ajar, her boss, who is also on the phone, waves her in while she rambles on to whoever it is she's speaking to.

"Of course, dear, if I have the scoop, you'll be the first to know," she promises, rolling her eyes as she waits for the person on the other end to finish their goodbye, adding one of her own and hanging up with a scowl.

"Someone looking for dirt on an ex?" Regina asks jokingly.

"Worse, Ursula wants to know what story we'll be publishing in our Christmas issue."

Ah, that explains Mal's mood, then.

Ursula is the CEO of K&Q, a wealthy mogul who has built an empire on buying and selling magazines and social media sites. She's a machine, nonstop and determined. Even now, at the height of her career, she's rumored to be looking for a buyer for K&Q, someone who will take part in running the magazine while she finds her next target, but no concrete offers have been made yet, as far as they know. She's a strong boss, fun, proactive, demanding, and very, very impatient.

"Do we even _have_ a story for the Christmas issue yet?" Regina asks, curious, and is met with a smirk from the blonde woman in front of her.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," she tells her before gesturing to the chair in front of her on the opposite side of the desk, prompting Regina to take a seat.

"Is everything okay?"

"Well that depends on how you take the news I'm about to give you. You're up for a promotion."

Whoa.

That… was not what she was expecting.

"Are you serious?!" Regina exclaims.

"Oh, yes, Ursula's idea," Mal admits, "she's promoting me to Editor in Chief, so she's looking for a new assistant editor to take my place, and she thinks you'd be a great match, if you prove yourself."

"That's amazing!"

"Hold your horses, dear," Mal warns, "she thinks Sidney would also be a good choice."

Ugh.

Sidney Glass. Regina's competition and a total slimeball. He's good at his job, sure, has some very valuable connections that get him plenty of information for his stories (and she has to admit that the piece of his that had been printed last year, about famed director Ella Feinberg bullying America's sweetheart, actress Anna Arendelle, on the set of their new movie, is still one of the best bits of gossip _Kings and Queens_ has ever published), but he's also a sleaze, and a nasty rival. Knowing she has to compete with him for the editor job immediately takes the fun out of it, but she's willing to do it, if only so she can see his face when she wins.

"What do I have to do?" she asks, determined.

"We received a tip-off from an anonymous source on that Twitter thing you're doing, about the Locksley family."

"Is that why you had me study them today?"

"Yes, but don't tell Sidney I did that," she answers with a wink. "I have him reading up on that new screenplay author that's getting all the Oscar buzz, just to throw him off the trail."

"Isaac Heller?"

"Yeah, him. Anyway, the tip is that one of the Locksley brothers will be getting engaged this weekend, at the family's mansion Saranac Lake."

"I saw that tip, but there's no report of any kind to back it up, none of my sources have said a peep, I feel like we'd know if that was true."

"Oh, it is, Ursula's confirmed it with one of those informants she has that she never reveals, so your job -and Sidney's- is to get that story before anyone else. Whoever has the best article gets the job."

"Really? That's it?"

"Yes, so I suggest you start looking around for info. All we know is that the engagement will happen this weekend during the family's big Christmas charity bash."

"They have a charity bash?"

"They do it every year!" Mal says, looking incredulously at her, like she can't believe Regina didn't know about this, but hey, she's only just started studying them, and while she knows the basics, she doesn't pay that much attention to them.

And if she's honest, she's had bigger fish to fry. Her most recent article is perfect proof of that.

"Okay so at this charity thing, one of them is going to propose."

"Yes."

"Right, see there's one problem with that, they're not dating anyone!"

"That we know of."

"They're rich, they're hot, and they're related to politics, if they were involved with someone, we'd know."

"That's not necessarily true, Regina, they're a very secretive bunch, we've only seen two interviews from the brothers this year. They used to be all over the place up until Robin broke up with Zelena Greene, it's been almost radio silence since then, no one really knows what they're up to."

Regina huffs out a breath, still dreading that she's about to be sent on a wild goose chase, but then she realizes, she could be editor, she could actually do it, all she needs is that story.

"Fine, I'm in," she informs Mal, whose red lips pull up in a smile as she wishes her luck.

* * *

"You're going upstate?! _Less than three weeks before my wedding?!_ Do you have any idea how much planning there is left to do?! You can't go off to the Adirondacks so close to the event, you just can't!"

Regina rolls her eyes. She knew Mary Margaret wouldn't take this mini trip well.

They've been friends since high school, maintained that friendship even after they went their separate ways in college, and Mary Margaret had been there for Regina when she'd lost her father, had even flown over from Arizona to Maine just to be with her when her mother passed away two years later.

Regina had never gotten along with her mother, and having her die before she could settle their differences had weighed on her, but then Mary had shown up, had reiterated that none of it had been her fault, that Regina was not to blame for her mother's terrible parenting, that she shouldn't feel guilty for being relieved to be free of her, and at the time, it had been exactly what she needed to hear, to finally feel like her suffering had ended, that she wouldn't have to deal with Cora's abuses any longer, and her friend had understood that. Their bond had strengthened even more when Mary and her boyfriend David had moved to New York City three years ago, just a few blocks from Regina's uptown apartment. And when the boyfriend had turned fiancé earlier this year, and Mary had asked her to be maid of honor at her Christmas wedding, Regina hadn't hesitated to accept.

She's regretted that decision ever since.

Turns out, for all her sweetness and charm, Mary Margaret Blanchard is quite the bridezilla, and therefore far less accommodating where her wedding is concerned.

"It's only for a few days, it'll be fine."

"Regina, I rely on you to help me make this wedding happen, you can't just up and leave on a whim!"

"It's not a whim, it's work."

"Mal's doing this on purpose, isn't she? She hates me, so she wants to mess with my wedding!"

"She does hate you," no point in denying that, the two women had never gotten along, "but she's not doing this to spite you, she wants me to get that promotion. _I_ want to get that promotion."

Mary leaves her then, huffing and puffing as she makes her way to the dressing room of Jefferson's Bridal, where they've been for the past half hour. That's when Regina's eyes focus on the hideous lump of fabric the seamstress is hanging up inside the dressing room for her friend to try on.

" _That_ is your dress?!" she exclaims just before the door shuts. She's alarmed that anyone would ever even set her eyes on such a thing. It's… terrible, to say the least.

"It's vintage, Regina!" Mary exclaims from inside, her breathing labored, because just putting on the awful dress is a workout, it seems.

"Not the good kind, dear," she retorts as her friend steps out of the dressing room, drowning in taffeta and lace, and Regina has to resist the urge to guffaw at the image before her.

The thing looks like it's been kept in a box for forty years... after being worn by someone's grandmother... to a Gone With The Wind themed party.

The skirt is gigantic, and Regina has a hard time believing Mary Margaret will be able to walk in it, layers and layers of tulle puffing out from the waist under the heavy white taffeta that drapes the silhouette. The sleeves look like pillows, poofy and ridiculous to the elbows, with an even more ridiculous, sparkly lace undersleeve covering the rest of the way to the wrists. There's more shimmery lace at the top, trimming the sweetheart neckline, covering the chest area and up to the neck, Mary's hopeful face barely visible under the yards and yards of tulle that make up the veil.

"You look like the wedding cake instead of the bride," she quips, and her friend rolls her eyes, bunches her hands around the skirt and lifts so she can walk the whole way out and to the mirror. Her face falls the second she sees her reflection.

"It really is terrible, isn't it?"

"Why did you even pick this?" Regina asks. She knows Mary's taste, this ghastly pile of fabric is not it.

"I didn't, David's mother gave it to me."

"She hates you that much?"

"No! No, it's nothing like that. According to Ruth, every woman in the family has worn it for their wedding, and it's led them to a lasting, happy marriage. It's tradition, and David was so excited that I'd be wearing it, I felt bad turning it dow- what is that?!"

Her eyes have drifted from her reflection to stare accusingly at the seamstress, who is standing nearby wringing her hands nervously.

"What is what, Ms. Blanchard?"

"That _stain_ marring my dress! I leave a valuable family heirloom with you for a week, trusting you to do the simple adjustments needed for it to fit me, and you damage it?!"

The mark is tiny, Regina hadn't even noticed it at first, but it's at the very front of the skirt, and now that she's seen it, it's not so easy to ignore it.

"Not to worry, Ms. Blanchard," a voice says from behind them, and they turn to find a flamboyantly clothed man approaching them. This must be Jefferson, Regina assumes, the owner of the shop. "This is only a minor setback. We'll have it cleaned, steamed, fixed and ready to go without a single detail out of place, I promise. You can come pick it up Wednesday afternoon."

Her friend turns to her then, desperation in her eyes as she rambles.

"Wednesday, he says. Like I can just rearrange my entire schedule to come pick up this thing! I'm supposed to go to the florist with David on Wednesday, and then the bakery, and then the hall to check that everything we've requested is set, he's taking the day off to do this with me, I can't just _come here_ on Wednesday to pick up the dress!"

She's rambling, frustrated, her cheeks red and her eyes watery, and Regina decides to take pity on her friend, holds her shoulders and looks straight at her.

"Mary Margaret, breathe," she commands. "I'm your maid of honor, I only work a half day on Wednesday, _I'll_ pick up the dress."

Mary's eyes light up, one stray tear falling down her cheek as she smiles at Regina, "You will?!"

"Sure thing. I'll borrow Mal's car when I leave the office and stop by on my way home from the gym to pick it up, alright?"

"You're the best!" Mary says before she throws her arms around her, poofy sleeves smacking her face, but Regina doesn't mind, returns the hug easily, cringing when her friend wobbles back inside the dressing room to take off the taffeta explosion that is her wedding gown.

Regina spends her Tuesday reading up on the Locksleys, editing a few articles and playing around with her schedule while Ruby makes notes on what she needs to do before she can head out for the weekend. She still can't believe she's going to stalk a political family at their own charity events just to get a story, but it's a hazard of the job, she supposes, and Ruby, wonderful assistant that she is, has booked her a cozy suite at a charming little B&B in town from Thursday night to Sunday, so that she can at least be comfortable while she stakes out possible leads.

She's messy and sweaty after her workout on Wednesday afternoon, the black shorts and light gray tank top she changed into before leaving her office now clinging to her skin as she heads out to run her errand, and she regrets not bringing her office clothes along for the ride. At least with those she'd be less icky.

She shifts uncomfortably against the back of the seat as she drives Mal's car (which she graciously lent her after rolling her eyes at the mere mention of Mary Margaret's wedding) to the bridal shop. Jefferson is there, waiting for her with the nightmare of a dress in a large garment bag, his sincerest apologies adorning the package in the shape of a white rose and a hefty discount on Mary's bill, and Regina thanks him, happy to know she'll be able to deliver some good news to the bride along with her dress.

It's when she's back in the car, driving off after carefully laying the bag across the backseat, that she gets the call.

She's going through the radio, trying to find a station that isn't playing cheerful and repetitive holiday music as she speeds by, passing stores decorated in all their Christmas glory, garlands and wreaths and gigantic Christmas trees adorning every other building, and then her phone rings.

It's Mal, and she seems aggravated, not even offering a "hello" when Regina picks up the call.

"Where the hell are you?" she seethes into the phone.

"Just picked up Mary's dress from the shop. It's the reason I borrowed your car, remember?"

"What I mean is, why are you not working on the Locksley story?!"

"Mal, it's Wednesday, I only work til lunch time. Don't worry, though, I have my research under contr-"

"Forget your research. Get a full tank of gas, and get your ass to Saranac!"

"I have everything set to leave for Saranac tomorrow night."

"It's been confirmed that the family arrived there today."

"Today?! But our sources said they'd get there tomorrow," Regina offers, puzzled.

"Don't you think I know that?! It seems our sources were wrong, or maybe the Locksleys wanted to avoid the press so they made the trip a day earlier. Either way, it's done, they're already at the mansion, so you have to get there now. Sidney's already on his way."

It's that last bit that does it, and Regina nods determinedly, setting her eyes on the road ahead.

"Okay, I'm on it. I'll call when I'm there," she promises her boss, taking the necessary detours and heading out of town.

It's a five hour drive to Saranac Lake, which means she'll make it just after nightfall. She has nothing packed, she realizes as she looks down at her chic combination of gym shorts and sweaty tank top, but it's no matter, when she gets there she'll have plenty of time to settle in, buy some clothes to get her through the weekend, and figure out her next move.

It all goes downhill from there.

Her GPS gets her lost twice, makes her take the wrong turn in three different occasions, and by the time she's finally back on the right track, darkness is covering the landscape around her, snowflakes beginning to form and fall more heavily as she drives on, and all of a sudden there's so much snow Regina can't really see where she's going, driving in circles until she hits a nasty bump, the crunch of the car's underside against whatever it got caught on dulling her senses as she tries not to panic, pulling the brakes and stopping the thing altogether.

She tries to call triple A, but there's no reception, uses the windshield wipers to clear the front window and look around for a way out of the snow ditch she's accidentally stranded herself on, or at the very least find a sign that tells her exactly where she is or how much further til she reaches the main village, but there's not a single thing in sight except for trees and snow and the road disappearing in the dark of night. The wind is blowing the snow all around her even harder, and the car is starting to sputter. She knows it won't last long, that whatever damage was done to it in the crash, paired with the cold, will make the engine stop any second now, and she tries to figure out a way to fix this.

The best Regina can think of is to try and find an area nearby where her reception isn't completely dead, so she can call for help, but that would entail going out into a rapidly brewing snowstorm and walking around in the cold for who knows how long or how far. Definitely not a very good prospect when all she has on are her gym clothes.

In a desperate glance around her for any item that might help, she notices the garment bag sitting in the back, almost teasing her with its hideousness because it knows what she's going to have to do if she wants to stay at least a little warm while she gets help.

As if on cue, the car gives out then, prompting Regina to gather her courage and steel herself for the ridiculous ordeal she's about to endure.

Exiting the vehicle, she makes her way to one of the back doors, yanks it open as she trembles in the cold night air and grabs the bag, ripping it open and hoisting the dress up over her head, until she's covered in fabric so bright and white she'd be easily confused with the mounds of snow piling up all around her if it weren't for her dark hair and the desperate little jumps she's giving in order to keep her body from freezing.

"God, you really must love him," she says as she looks down at the awful dress, somehow even more offensive in its ugliness now that it's on her, and then Regina walks, trots, wades through the snow with her cell phone held up in front of her, trying and failing to get at least one of the signal bars to show on her screen. This, she thinks, is what hell must be like.

The car is off, no chance of turning it on again in this storm, and so she keeps going, walks up a small hill and then down, looking frantically around for somewhere she can seek refuge for the night. In her frustration, she takes a wrong step, falls on her face through some tree branches and a broken barbed wire fence, ripping the skirt in the process. Great, that's just _great_ , she's now torn her friend's very ugly, very sentimentally valuable gown to scraps, and she's about to pass out from exhaustion and most likely die of hypothermia before Mary Margaret can kill her herself.

* * *

Just when she's given up and collapsed on the icy floor, her angry tears now cold on her face, she sees something. But no, she must be imagining them, there's no way those are real headlights pointing at her, no way there's a car approaching her. Oh, but it is, she sees it clearly now, a sleek silver sedan moving slowly down the road, she can hear the soft crackling of the ice and snow under its tires as it gets closer, and then it's there, in front of her, a man getting out of the driver's side and staring at her in confusion.

Oh _no_.

This cannot be.

That's… no.

He's even more handsome in real life, she notices, the stubble perfectly framing his jaw adding not age, but a wisdom to his general appearance, dark blond hair (that her fingers would itch to touch if they weren't hurting from the cold) is perfectly combed into place, a few flurries catching on it no more than ten seconds after he's exited his car, and those eyes, piercing and bluer than any she's ever seen, they stare at her with concern, maybe a little curiosity, as he asks in the most charming of accents, "are you alright?" and _god_ she was not prepared for this, for how attractive he would be in person, she always thought it was a myth, when people said celebrities were better looking when you saw them up close, but oh how right they were, no tabloid picture has done Robin Locksley any justice.

"Excuse me? Can you understand me?" he asks, taking her for a non-English speaker when she stalls her reply.

"I'm okay," she tells him, "just lost."

"That stranded car I saw a couple miles back is yours, then?"

"Yes, I was looking for help, reception here sucks."

"The storm's picking up, even if you got any reception now, no one would come, people are probably taking shelter for the night," he informs her, staring for a moment, as if trying to make up his mind about her.

"Why don't you come with me?" he finally offers, "I have a cabin nearby with a landline, though it won't work in this blizzard, you'll have to wait til tomorrow. You, um, you can spend the night in my guest room, and I could have someone pick up your car in the morning to get it fixed."

This is ridiculous.

Ridiculous and random and insane and... well, oddly perfect, now that she thinks of it. Who needs sources to outwit Sidney when she could get the story from the mouth of Robin Locksley himself? All she needs to do is get him to trust her, and then she'll have her way into every single event for this weekend. She can get her feature, she can get that promotion.

"Thank you so much," she says sincerely, because story or not, the man has just saved her from a possible freezing death.

"Robin Locksley," he introduces himself, eyes crinkling as they both stand there in the cold, bounding on the balls of their feet to try and get the formalities out of the way before they both share a car ride the rest of the way to his cabin.

"Regina Mill- stone," she returns, stumbling to add the extra syllable to her last name to keep her cover, and then he offers his arm to her, walks her to the passenger's side, and it's only when they're both safely inside his car and driving away from the storm that he decides to question her choice of attire.

"Were you running to your wedding?" he knows that's not it, she realizes, is only trying to be polite because he thinks she's a runaway bride, and that's great, she can work that angle.

"Running _from_ my wedding, actually," she says demurely, looking down at her hands.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he offers, and Regina shakes her head.

"It's too painful," she lies, too tired and cold to make up a proper story to tell him.

"I'm not here to judge you, Regina," he says then, surprising her, "and we've only just met, but, if you do need to talk, I'm here."

"Thank you," she says, stunned.

His cabin is only a fifteen minute drive from where he'd picked her up, and when they arrive, he's every bit the gentleman as he shows her in, finds her something warm to drink (apple cider, much to Regina's delight) and then sets about finding her something to change into.

Regina focuses on enjoying her cider and taking in her surroundings. The cabin is made of beautiful cedar wood, the triangular ceiling reaching its highest peak right above her. Two windows line each of the two biggest walls, and the fire sputtering in the stone fireplace nearby reflects its flames on the glass. The furniture is upholstered in well-worn, warm-toned plaid, with mismatched quilted cushions on both the couch and armchair, a wicker basket with pine cones adorning the coffee table, red bows adding a festive air to the mantle piece, matching the red and gold decorations of the too-short-yet-somehow-just-right Christmas tree that sits next to it, and the simplicity, the coziness of it all, startles Regina. She wasn't expecting the house of a rich politician's trust fund baby to be so normal, so… homey.

"Here we are," his voice suddenly says, interrupting her perusal of the cabin as he emerges from the door adjacent to the small nook down the hall. He's carrying clothes in his hands, _his_ clothes, she realizes upon closer inspection, comfy black pajama pants and a red and black checkered shirt.

"I'm afraid it's all I've got… we can call it 'lumberjack couture' to make it more fashionable," he jokes, and Regina can't help but laugh.

"I can honestly say I've never been so happy to see flannel," she quips back, smiling as she takes in his outfit for the first time. She'd expected him to be in a suit, or maybe khaki pants and a navy shirt, a Lacoste poster boy like the rest of his peers. Instead he's in worn jeans and boots, the collar of a blue plaid shirt propped up and visible under the V neckline of his forest green sweater.

"Ah, does that mean flannel is not usually to your taste, then? Not chic enough for your majesty?"

"Well, you've seen my dress," she answers without missing a beat, gesturing to the ripped, wet taffeta mess still on her, "my tastes are quite refined."

They both laugh then, and when he asks why she would ever get married in that particular gown, Regina feels just a little guilty when she continues her charade and explains that it's a family heirloom.

"Well, your majesty," he jests again as he leads her to the guest room, and the flirty way in which he says the nickname has a warm, tingly feeling settling in her, "if you'd kindly put up with my hideous flannel for the night, we can have your car sorted tomorrow and then you can head to town and find some more appropriate outfits to fit your regal stature."

She sighs then, defeated, adds a fake pout for good measure as she says, "I suppose it'll have to do, but only for tonight."

She takes the offered clothes from him, saying she'll return them to him when she purchases her things tomorrow, but he waves her off, tells her to keep it all.

"Think of it as a memento of your first and only time wearing commoner clothes," he teases, and she rolls her eyes, but accepts (just to appease him, she tells herself, making a mental note to leave his clothes washed, dried and neatly folded on his bed tomorrow, when she has something of her own to wear), smiling when he wishes her a good night and promises he'll take her car to the repair shop in the morning before she even wakes up.

"How do I know you're not going to steal it? For all I know you're some dangerous thief trying to make a quick buck," she throws at him, partly because she wants him to think she has no idea who he is, and partly because she's found that she likes this banter she's established with him, enjoys their interactions.

"I guess you'll just have to trust me," he replies before he heads to his room, "good night, your majesty."

"Good night… thief," she adds for lack of a better nickname, winking when he turns to look at her with a raised eyebrow, and at her smirk, he chuckles, shaking his head and disappearing down the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

**_One day closer to Christmas! Yay!_**

* * *

She can't sleep.

She tries, she really does, but for some reason the entire ordeal she's been through tonight doesn't wipe her out like she thought it would, rather has her tossing and turning, tangling and untangling the covers around her legs, her hair sprawled inelegantly on the pillow as she tries -and fails- to find the rest she knows she needs. And it's all because of him.

She's intrigued by Robin Locksley, surprised by how wrong she seems to have been about him. True, he's most likely still a brat, but she never would've expected someone like him to be as kind as he is, to offer safe haven to a complete stranger simply because he'd found her lost out in the cold. Yet here she is, enjoying the comforts of his home, warm and cozy in the guest room he's given her for the night, and Regina finds herself oddly drawn to him despite her own judgment.

That intrigue is what's keeping her from getting any proper sleep tonight, it seems, so she leaves her comfy bed and exits the room, thinking she might just explore the house, pour herself a glass of water and watch the fireplace for a while.

To her surprise, the very man she's trying to stop thinking about is sitting on the couch when she reaches the living room, scribbling furiously on a notebook he has propped up on the leg he's crossed over his knee. He doesn't notice her, too engrossed in his writing, and Regina instantly tries to back away and leave before she can embarrass herself any further, but it's like the cosmos has it out for her tonight, and the moment she steps back, the floor creaks under the wooly socks he let her borrow, and Robin's head snaps up, smiling when he catches sight of her.

"Having trouble sleeping?" he asks matter-of-factly.

"You could say that," she answers, adding a timid, "I'm sorry, if I'd known you'd be out here I wouldn't have left the room, didn't mean to interrupt."

"That's quite alright," he says, ever courteous, and Regina can only nod, rubbing at her arms to warm up as she looks around the cabin.

"This is a really nice place," she starts, trying to make conversation.

"I'll make sure to pass on the compliment to Marco," he replies, putting his writing materials away.

"Marco?"

"Our groundskeeper," he explains. "We own a few acres in the area, and we have a house just a couple miles east, Marco helps us take care of everything. He's actually the one who lives in this cabin. In fact, had you gotten lost on the road three days ago, he would've been the one to rescue you, but he lets me have this place when I need some time to myself, so it was I who found you."

Oh.

Well, that makes sense, she supposes. And she should've realized this all before, of course, because there's no way a member of the Locksley family would live in a little cabin in the woods.

"And instead of the solitude you were seeking, you had to deal with me," she deduces, feeling guilty, "I'm sorry for intruding on your alone time," she tries to add, but she's not even mid sentence before Robin is shaking his head at her, waving off her apology.

"Don't be, you've actually been quite an interesting addition," he chuckles, "but you really should try and get some sleep. Can't imagine it's been an easy day for you."

"You're right about that," she says coyly, still standing in the middle of the room.

"How about some tea?" he offers, and she nods, tells him thanks, and then watches him get up and make his way to the small kitchen, putting a kettle on and rummaging the cupboard for the bags.

Regina takes this time to properly look around, now that she's sure he doesn't mind. There are pictures on the mantle, one of Shirley Lucas and her late sister at some function or other, one of an elderly man Regina assumes is Marco with Senator Locksley and his wife at their wedding, and the rest is all pictures of Robin and his brother from childhood to adulthood, seemingly organized in chronological order from youngest to oldest, their features changing before her very eyes as she shifts her gaze from one to the other, grabbing one or two to bring forward for a closer look.

"Marco's been with us since grandpa Locksley purchased this estate," she hears Robin's voice say from behind her, and she turns to find him standing there with two cups of tea in his hands. She ventures closer, taking her cup from his hand and sipping the hot liquid while he continues to explain. "He watched my parents fall in love, was the best man at their wedding, watched us grow up... He's practically family."

"Sounds nice," she tells him with a genuine smile, and then frowns when she catches the way he's looking at her.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Nothing, it's just... you really do look beautiful in flannel," he answers, and she can tell the compliment is real, not a rehearsed thing or a way to be polite, he really does mean it. Regina feels herself blush at the realization, but laughs off his comment and sips more tea, remaining quiet for a bit. They're sitting sideways on either end of the couch now, facing each other and resting one arm over the back of it, legs warm under the fluffy throws strewn over the plaid upholstery.

"What do you do here in your precious alone time?" she prods, tucking her knees more tightly under her.

"Just... relax," he responds, chancing a look at the notebook and pen he's left by the coffee table. He doesn't seem to want to elaborate, and Regina doesn't push, she knows better than anyone how upsetting that is, having lived through her mother's many inquisitions about how she spent her day when she wasn't around to spy on her every move.

He interrupts the horrible memories flashing by with a question that has her almost hyperventilating.

"So, are you going to tell me what brought you here?"

She can't tell him the truth, she knows that, but she has to tell him something, especially after he's been so open and caring, he deserves an explanation, however unreal it might be.

"I just... realized I couldn't marry him, so I ran," she lies, keeping her story as vague as possible, and to her surprise, Robin looks concerned, like he actually cares for her well-being.

"I'm sorry things between you and..." he stops, looks at her expectantly.

"Graham," she supplies the name of her most recent ex boyfriend (if you can call breaking up over a year ago 'recent'), and Robin repeats the name, finishing his sentiment.

"...Graham, I hope you'll find better happiness someday."

She would laugh at that if it didn't sound so sincere, and there's a twinge of guilt that stirs inside her at the fact that he's being unbelievably nice and understanding, trying to make her feel better about something that is nothing more than a bold-faced lie.

"I highly doubt that," she says with a humorless chuckle, and _that_ at least, is not a lie. She's had relationships, obviously, and quite a few of them at that, but she's never been in love, and considering the amount of filth she sees going back and forth between couples every day when she researches her stories, it's unlikely she'll ever allow herself to fall for anyone. "I don't think I'll ever find someone who is right for me."

"And what would the right person be for you?" he seems interested in hearing her take on it, and she doesn't see why she should lie about such a trivial thing, so she tells him the truth on that as well.

"Someone smart, someone who believes in the importance of equal partnership in a relationship, who accepts my flaws, who balances me, who is patient with me... but also someone fun, someone I can laugh with, you know? Watch movies, eat cookie dough just because we feel like it, someone who's not afraid to talk to me about their lives and what they feel."

He nods, smiles and sips his tea as he looks and looks at her. Regina feels a bit scrutinized by the intensity of his gaze, decides to throw the same question back at him to distract him.

"What about you, what do you think the perfect woman should be like?"

"Well, all those things you described make a good list. But I'd also want someone who likes romance, someone who wants to enjoy life as much as I do, who won't be bashful when I kiss her under the mistletoe at Christmas, someone who can teach me how to cook or bake things, who doesn't care where I come from or who my family is, but wants me for me. I actually thought I'd found all that with the last woman I dated... Zelena... but as it turns out she was more interested in the perks of being a Locksley than in me."

That's... not what her sources had told her. She needs to know more about this if she wants her story to have that extra kick.

"That can't have been pleasant," she offers, and Robin shrugs.

"Over time I started noticing how it was only when I was with her that the paparazzi even bothered to accost me, and my picture wasn't splattered on every tabloid unless Zelena was in it as well. The more public our relationship got, the more scandalous my reputation became..."

It's true, she realizes, the more his relationship with Zelena Greene evolved in the public eye, the more cheating accusations and marriage rumors seemed to flare.

"One day I realized it was Zelena who was tipping off the media, just so she could cultivate some sort of fame. I broke it off after that. It stung, but I didn't love her, and I think deep down that's why I didn't, because somehow I knew she wasn't who she appeared to be."

"I'm sorry," she says, and she means it, too, but the sentiment has her hand darting out to rest on his forearm and squeeze lightly, showing him her support and understanding, which would be all well and good, except she did _not_ make the decision to touch him. It seems her body is acting of its own accord, and as much as she doesn't want to enjoy it, she can't help but admit that she really does like this comfort they've found in each other after mere hours of meeting for the first time.

They stay silent for a while, and drowsiness hits, thanks to the cozy fire and fluffy blankets covering their legs, making them yawn and groan tiredly, and then they grin when they realize they've done it at the same time.

"Time for bed, I think, your majesty," Robin tells her as he tries to stifle another yawn, and Regina nods her agreement, wishing him a good night once more and heading back to the guest room with a small smile on her face. Sleep comes easily after that.

* * *

It's late when she gets up Thursday morning. She'd forgotten to set her alarm, but when she hurriedly makes her way out of the room, she finds Robin in the kitchen, overcooking bacon and cursing it when he burns his hand in an effort to remove the charred strips from the pan.

"Everything alright, thief?" she asks from behind him, and he turns to her, embarrassed that he's been caught, smiles sheepishly in her direction.

"I called in the best auto repair shop in the area, but they had a lot of stranded cars from the storm to pick up so it took them a while to get here. They've only just left with your car, so I wanted to make us breakfast, since it seems you're stuck with me for the rest of the day," he confesses, "but I'm afraid my cooking skills aren't the best."

"Thank you for helping with the car," she says, "as for breakfast, It's because you're setting the flame too high. Here," she extends her hand to take the apron from him as he removes it, "I'll teach you."

But they don't get the chance to extend their cooking adventures any further, because no sooner has she wrapped the apron around her waist when the doorbell rings and Robin tenses up, walks slowly to the door and opens it in a way that has her thinking he might be dreading disrupting this little bubble of domestic fun they've created. She trails behind him, peering curiously over his shoulder to see who is on the other side.

"Marco," Robin greets cheerfully, if a little forced, and the older man Regina had seen in one of the pictures on the mantle walks inside to find her there, wearing Robin's pajama pants and flannel shirt, her hair tied in a messy bun and burnt bacon still in the pan she's holding.

"Oh! I didn't know you had company over, my boy... Good morning," he says in a faint Italian accent, turning to her to add, "you must forgive him, his manners have always been terrible."

He offers a hand to her, and she shakes it with a nervous smile, giving her name and fake last name to the man and then watching him as he frowns when his eyes land on their ruined breakfast.

"Robin, if you want to impress a woman, you might want to try showing her something you're actually good at," he chastises, much to the other man's annoyance, and Regina can only chuckle.

"Very funny," Robin replies.

"Who said I was joking?" Marco replies, throwing a wink in Regina's direction. "In any case, you'll be glad to hear brunch is being served at the main house in anticipation of your brother's arrival, Shirley is expecting you there, and if you don't mind, I'd like to have my house back, please?"

"Why is she expecting me? I told her I was taking a few days off."

"Yes, well, Walsh said on the phone he has a surprise for us all. Considering the last time he said such a thing, he was eleven and bringing home a rat he'd found in his friend's attic, I doubt your aunt is handling the possibility of news from him all that well. She wants you there for support… or as muscle in case some sort of intervention is needed and you have to wrestle him to the ground," Marco adds as an afterthought.

Robin sighs, turns to her with an apologetic smile and asks if she'd be alright with having breakfast at the house instead. Regina is nervous, feels like she's intruding, but she's sure this is it, certain that what Walsh Locksley is going to announce today is the engagement story she was sent to find.

"It beats charcoal bacon," Marco adds with a wink, and Regina grins pleasantly, nods her head, and then asks if she may take a couple of minutes to make a call.

Robin leads her to the living room where the landline is, and then both men leave her to it, waiting outside for her to be ready. Regina dials the number quickly, only has to wait for one ring before her assistant picks up.

"You've reached the office of Regina Mills, this is Ruby speaking. How may I help you?"

"It's me," she says in a low voice, and the younger woman breathes a sigh of relief and then instantly starts snapping at her for leaving without warning.

"Look I just had to get here a little early, okay? Sidney was already on his way and I can't let him win this."

"Doesn't mean you had to hijack the boss's car to go upstate a day early without telling me!"

"Ruby, you do know there's a big pay raise for you if I get that promotion, right?"

"Yes, I know, and I'm counting on that for extra Christmas shopping."

"Okay, then stop complaining and listen!" Regina whisper-shouts back. She then proceeds to tell her the whole story of her snowy escapade, the car trouble, the blizzard, the handsome stranger rescuing her... She leaves out the part where she's starting to feel ridiculously attracted to the man, though, it won't do well to confess something like that, she has a job to do.

Ruby seems to think otherwise.

"So what's he like?!" she asks excitedly.

"He's... not what I expected, actually," Regina admits, "he's not like the people we usually write about, y'know? He's... sweet. Kind. Way more handsome in real life than in pictures."

"Ugh this is so romantic!" Ruby responds, elongating the pronunciation of the word, and Regina rolls her eyes.

"This is not about romance, Ms. Redhood, this is work. He trusts me, he's invited me for brunch with his family. Apparently his brother has some news for them. Pretty sure that's our article."

"Should I let the boss know?"

"Not yet, I have to make sure I have everything, can't blab to Mal and then not have the story."

"You're right. So what do you need from me?"

"Cover for me? Tell Mary Margaret I had to leave early but that everything's fine, I have her dress and will hand deliver it to her door when I get back two days before the wedding, she has nothing to worry about."

"Alright, and what about Mal?"

"Tell her I'm on an undercover mission and will get back to her when I have something to dish."

"You got it, boss."

"Thanks. I'll keep you updated and let you know if I need anything else."

"No problem. Oh, and Regina?"

"Yes?"

"Just because it's work doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"Are you implying I should sleep with Robin Locksley?"

"I meant more along the lines of 'enjoy the season in one of the most beautiful places in the state of New York and bring me back a souvenir,' but I like your idea better," Ruby says with a laugh before hanging up.

Regina shakes her head with a smirk, and then Robin comes back inside.

"Everything alright?" he asks with interest.

"Yeah, just letting my friend know I'm okay and will be back as soon as the car's fixed."

"Ah, then I guess I'll have to bribe the men in the auto shop to take a few extra days. I'm not ready to let you go just yet."

The casual way he says it, with that genuine smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and shows the dimples in his cheeks, makes a liquid heat travel through her, warming her and flushing her cheeks with color as she looks down coyly, tucks a strand of hair that's fallen off her ponytail behind her ear.

"I should get dressed," she says in an attempt to change the subject, and Robin gives her an amused look. "What?"

"It seems you've forgotten what you were wearing when I saved you, your majesty."

Oh. Right. Mary Margaret's dress. The dress that is torn to shreds thanks to Regina's little trek in the snowy woods. She stares at it now, hanging near the coat closet, the fabric ripped and muddy all over. She is _so_ dead.

"You can go into town with my aunt later today and get some new things to wear," Robin's voice says, interrupting her near panic attack. "Unless you'd rather stay in my clothes all day. Can't say I'd object."

He winks at her then, and that's the second time he's flirted with her, those little butterflies stirring in her stomach before she can stop them.

He opens the door for her and they leave the cabin together, Marco having already departed, and they both begin walking towards the gigantic house not two miles up the road. She hadn't noticed it the night before, blocked from view as it was by the massive snowfall, but now that she sees it, Regina is mesmerized by it.

The outer edges of the structure are made of large, flat stones, with high and low peak ceilings that rise two, maybe three stories high, the slate tile roof is covered in snow quite heavily on the ends of its diagonal slopes, making it look like the perfect winter home. A wrought iron fence frames the yard and driveway, lined every few feet with stone pillars topped with lantern lamps that compliment the classic style of the residence, and Regina can easily imagine a much younger Robin running around it and having snowball fights with his brother. There are large windows to let in the natural light, and more lantern lamps on the walls, three wooden garage doors under the grand white fence balcony that is decorated in a beautiful Christmas garland with red bows. The front has wooden double doors set with frosted, leaded patterned glass, demure but elegant, just like the rest of the mansion.

She means to say something, to remark on the beauty of the place to her host, but he's walked ahead while she was staring, so she hurries to keep up instead, reaching him just as he's opening the door.

"Aunt Shirley?" he calls, "Marco?"

Nothing.

It's like the house has been abandoned, not a single noise alerting them to anyone else's presence but their own, which makes no sense considering they just saw Marco coming in not five minutes ago.

"Wait here," Robin tells her kindly, "I'll be right back."

Regina nods, watches him disappear down the hall and then walks slowly around the foyer while she waits, staring at the portraits and family photos lining the small tables, ghosting fingers over the few knick-knacks that rest next to the ornate picture frames.

"Who are you and what do you want?" a voice says from behind her, and Regina turns with a hand clutched to her chest in fright, gasping when she finds none other than Shirley Lucas staring right at her.

"This isn't what it looks like," she starts, nervously running a hand through her hair and stumbling over her words, trying to explain who she is before she's kicked out of the house.

"There you are!" Robin suddenly exclaims, walking hurriedly to them and giving his aunt a quick kiss on the cheek as he wishes her good morning, Marco trailing right behind him and all three momentarily forgetting that she's there, until Robin catches sight of her standing hesitantly to the side and moves toward her, turning to introduce her to the matriarch of the Locksley family, but then a car horn is heard from outside, and Marco cheerily announces that must be Walsh. He leaves them there to attend to the new arrivals, and Mrs. Lucas is too busy bouncing and excitedly awaiting her other nephew to care about Regina right now.

When Marco comes back in, however, his face looks a tad somber.

"Walsh is here," he confirms, looking to Robin as he adds, "and he's brought a guest... a female guest."

Robin and his aunt stare at each other, dumbfounded, it seems, by the fact that the youngest Locksley has brought a girl home. Regina, on the other hand, is trying very hard not to squeal, because this is it, she's got the story, she has front row seats to watch the engagement announcement and Sidney can't do anything about it. She's got this in the bag.

Or so she thought.

When Walsh Locksley comes in, there's a collective gasp from everyone in the room except for Marco, though his dejected attitude from just seconds ago makes complete sense now.

Walsh is indeed accompanied by a woman, but that's not what shocks them. No, what punches the breath right out of them is the fact that the woman he's brought along is none other than Zelena Greene.

Regina's eyes almost bug out of her face when she recognizes the young British socialite, she cannot believe this. Not only is Walsh Locksley planning to propose this weekend, he's proposing _to his brother's ex!_

"Hello, Robin," the woman greets, and it startles Regina how that British accent can sound so charming on him, yet so annoying on her, "it's been a while."

"I know it's a little awkward," Walsh states, speaking up for the first time, "but I love her, and you're my big brother, so I'm hoping you can find it in you to be okay with this?"

Robin doesn't speak.

Tension fills the room, Walsh and his brother exchanging hard stares while Mrs. Lucas simply looks around the foyer, avoiding her nephews, at a loss as to how to react to the situation at hand.

That's when she seems to remember Regina's existence.

"Again, who are you and what are you still doing here?"

Robin sobers up at that, moves to Regina's side to acquaint them and explain.

"This is Regina, aunt Shirley, she's... well, she's... " he hesitates, not sure what to say (he doesn't really know her, after all), and Regina can see that he's trying to find a way to introduce her other than _This is Regina, I found her out in the snow wearing a wedding dress and she crashed at the cabin with me last night_ , and he's still so thrown by Walsh being there with his ex that he can't seem to settle for a good lie, so Regina finds herself taking over the introductions, reacting before she even thinks of the implications of what she's doing.

"I'm Robin's date for the weekend," she says with a pleasant smile, offering a hand to Mrs. Lucas, and where _the hell_ did that come from? That need to save him from this very uncomfortable moment? But then, what's done is done, and when she thinks about it, this could work in her favor. Yes, this is good, she'll convince him to keep up the ruse, that way she gets to help him ride off what has turned into an incredibly awkward weekend _and_ get her story, because being his date surely means unlimited access to all the Locksley events, right? She'll be able to experience everything first-hand and write a more detailed account to send back to Mal.

"Oh! You should've said that before! I'm sorry I was rude, dear, we've had a few media lunatics show up from time to time, one can never be too careful," Mrs. Lucas says, beaming at her and Robin, who is still too shocked by Regina's words to chime in.

"It's fine, really," she insists, still shaking the older woman's hand and smiling.

The awkwardness of the moment is broken somewhat, and Walsh and Zelena exchange formal greetings with Mrs. Lucas before they all head on to the dining room, leaving Regina and Robin behind, after his aunt insists that he take a couple minutes before they join them.

"So I take it from the shady looks and awkward silences that little miss English sunshine over there is the ex you were telling me about?" she tries to break the ice, and only then does Robin acknowledge her.

"What were you thinking?!" he whisper-shouts at her when they're alone.

"You were floundering, I just wanted to help," Regina whispers back.

"By telling my family that you're my girlfriend when we barely know each other?!"

"Okay, so there's a minor setback, but that's okay! We can figure it out."

"Wait, what? Tell me you're not actually considering this?!" his eyes are wide, blue and shocked as they stare at hers, and Regina smiles reassuringly. He's cute when he's agitated.

"Look, your brother just brought your ex into your home for the weekend without telling you first, this is bound to be horrible for you. I can help you, we'll pretend we're totally in love and that everything is perfect and that you're completely and totally over her-"

"I am," he says, cutting her off.

"I know that, but this is still going to be extremely uncomfortable. This way, at least you can show her that she can't affect you, that you're happy without her, and it'll make everything less awkward with your brother if he thinks you have someone."

Robin sighs then, and Regina takes the lack of protest as a good sign, lays it on thick to seal the deal.

"Robin," she says, moving closer to him, not daring to admit to herself how affected she is by his proximity. God, he really is attractive. "You're a good person," she continues, "you deserve better than to spend a weekend watching your brother play house with the woman who made you miserable. Let me do this for you."

It's as she says that, that Regina realizes how much she means it, how much she really does want to do this, for him more than for the story. He smiles tenderly at her, breathes an affirmative, and then a heartfelt _Thank you_ that makes her heart stir.

They have a bit of fun coming up with their story. They agree to tell everyone they met in the city, got into an argument because he took her parking spot, and his way of apologizing was to ask her out to dinner. They start ticking off the basics, exchange names of their schools (Regina already knows his, but she rolls her eyes nonetheless, adding a smile and an off-handed "of course" when he mentions Yale), tell each other about their best friends, favorite movies and television shows, music that they love and hate (he tells her he adores The Beatles, which makes Regina roll her eyes again, and then when she confesses to being a huge Adele fan, it's Robin who scowls at her musical taste).

When they reach the topic of favorite sports and teams, they discover that they both like baseball, so they agree to tell the family that they've been to a few Yankees games together, and Robin then suggests they pick a restaurant they've "been to on a date or two," in case they're asked. Regina mentions the name of a Mexican place in Midtown that she really likes, and Robin instantly compliments her choice, admits he's been there a few times himself, and they rave about the food and margaritas for a few seconds before they laugh and decide they have enough to fool the others for now, but there's one more thing they have to do, and she knows it, though it seems Robin is completely oblivious to it. Before he starts walking to the dining room, Regina grabs his arm and yanks him closer, planting her lips on his firmly.

It shocks her, the fire that lights up inside her at the gesture, and she can feel a blush rise to her cheeks as she keeps the contact going. He's too shocked to react at first, but responds after a few seconds, kisses her back gently, slowly, his lips so soft and hesitant she can't help the tiny smile that spreads on hers before she deepens the exchange, closing her mouth around his bottom lip and sucking lightly, loving the feel of his body as it presses against hers, and then he hovers when they part, breathes heavily in the space between them, brushes the tip of his nose against hers before they fully let go of each other.

"What was that for?" he asks stupidly, and Regina grins smugly, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she looks up at him from under her eyelashes.

"Building familiarity," she tells him. "Fake dating at Christmas means we'll find ourselves under a mistletoe at some point, and if that were our first kiss, people would know," she tells him nonchalantly, shrugging and patting him on the back before she sashays past him and walks to the dining room, loving the dazed look he gives her before he joins her.

This is going to be a piece of cake.

Hello, promotion.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Sorry for the delay, meant to post this waaaayyy earlier (as in, the 23rd, not 24th, but oh, well)._**

 ** _Anyway, here you go, guys! Chapter 3! Notice the rating changes for this one *wink wink*  
_**

* * *

After breakfast, their day runs smoothly. Mrs. Lucas takes an instant liking to her, invites her into town with her so she can get some clothes for the weekend (there's a half-assed explanation from Regina about how Robin, impulsive and romantic as he is, surprised her _so_ suddenly she didn't even have time to pack, and the older woman beams, tells her it's not a problem, and drags her into the car), and it's during their shopping that she gives Regina the rundown of their family history, the details of which she already knows but pretends not to, _ooh_ ing and _aww_ ing in all the right moments as Mrs. Lucas relays the story of her sister and brother in law, of their political career and their tragic deaths, of how Robin, as the eldest son, is supposed to go into politics like his father, carry on the family legacy like he's been educated and groomed to do his entire life, but Mrs. Lucas also tells her she's not pushing for it, clarifies that as long as her nephews are happy she doesn't really care what they choose to do, something she says Senator Locksley might not approve of but, well, _he's not here anymore, is he?_

A couple of hours later, Regina's able to secure herself a few changes of clothes from the little boutiques, including some ensembles stylish enough to join the family in their daytime outings to the community over the weekend. They also buy supplies to make gingerbread cookies later tonight, for a charity bake sale they have here in town tomorrow, and when Regina offers to make her own recipe, Mrs. Lucas cheerfully agrees, promises to make sure they have plenty of hot apple cider to keep them fueled up while they work.

She's pleasantly surprised with how grounded and fun they are. The prospect of family and hot cocoa for Christmas is something Regina wasn't expecting to find in the Locksley household, considering how busy and detached they all seem when they do public appearances, but here they are, all back at the house and being incredibly... Christmasy, playing charades by the fireplace, accepting her into their private lives and cozy family dynamics simply because they want to share the magic of the season with her.

It all has her feeling joyful and giggly, smiling at the family memories they discuss, anecdotes of Senator Locksley and his wife, stories that she sees Robin holds dear to his heart, and they have so many to tell that time goes swiftly by, and not once do they stray from telling tales of their past Christmases. Mrs. Lucas explains that it was her sister's favorite holiday, and Robin smiles tenderly at the mention of his mother, chances a look at Regina that is just a little too sad, enough to make her squeeze his hand in silent support.

She helps decorate the Christmas tree in the house, a giant, magnificent pine tree Marco informs her was brought in just last night from the nearby woods, and the fresh scent of forest mixes with the air around her, making her breathe in contentedly.

Regina's never had a Christmas like this, so full of traditions and beautiful decorations. She was always moving, dragged by her parents from place to place, never once having the time to settle or make friends before they were heading somewhere new again, so there was never really an opportunity for the traditional cozy Christmas celebration with friends and family and eggnog and gift wrapping, it was usually just her, alone in whatever too-expensive house or apartment Cora had chosen for them to live, eating Chinese food straight out of the carton, sometimes watching movies that depicted the very scene she was longing to be a part of but never got the chance to.

With Mary Margaret living in New York and both of them without living relatives to spend the holiday with, they'd started their own little tradition of having breakfast together on Christmas Day, but it's not a full blown celebration, just a stint of holiday normalcy in their hectic lives, one which, coincidentally, they won't be able to experience this year, considering her friend will be getting married right around the time they usually dig into their Christmas tree shaped pancakes.

Being here though, with Robin and his family, seeing the warmth and joy that binds them with the season, it makes her feel good, welcomed in ways she hasn't been before, and Regina has a hard time reminding herself that this is all a means to an end, that she's here to get her story and go, she cannot get attached to these people, no matter how drawn she feels to them and the perfect holiday atmosphere they represent.

Well, all except Zelena, who sits idly by while the rest of them decorate the tree, and then turns up her nose at the smell of hot cider, tells Walsh no when he suggests she help him with the gingerbread cookies they're making for the charity bake sale tomorrow, and just to spite her, Regina runs a hand up and down Robin's back, saying baking cookies sounds like a fun time. He agrees, smiles at her and takes her hand as they rise, both of them following Walsh into the kitchen, where Mrs. Lucas already awaits, the dough they made earlier sitting on the counter, perfectly chilled and pliable after a few hours in the fridge.

She may not have experience with Christmas, but she does know how to bake a mean gingerbread cookie, had been taught by one of her many maids long ago how to make them, adamant to not let her mother take away her favorite holiday snack. She'd helped Mrs. Lucas earlier, added a few of the spices her maid had secretly told her would make for the best cookies, and now she takes one of the chilled discs of dough and expertly rolls it out with the heavy wooden pin, her motions steady and firm, just like Gerta taught her, until it's smooth and thin enough to sink in the cookie cutters.

When she looks up, she finds Robin struggling, the dough crumbling under his rolling pin as he keeps going, cursing and glaring at the concoction like it's its fault that he can't stretch it properly.

"You're pressing on it too hard," she tells him, laughing when, in his attempts to fix it, he smears himself with some of the flour sprinkled on the counter. Robin chuckles back, shakes his head, and says she might be better off doing this without his help.

"Robin, would you like me to show you?" she offers with a grin, and he bites his lip, looks at her in a way that makes Regina's skin flare with heat, and then he's nodding a quiet "please", giving her some room so she can move closer. His hands land on the rolling pin, arms stretched out on either side of her, encasing her between him at her back and the kitchen counter at her front, and Regina battles the urge to close her eyes and surrender to the pleasant feeling of his body pressed flush against hers as they both grab the rolling pin and extend the gingerbread dough together.

For a moment, they forget that they're not alone, Mrs. Lucas and Walsh both fading into the background of the spacious kitchen as Regina and Robin work on the cookies, and it feels amazing, her heart warming up and doing a giddy little dance whenever his fingers linger on hers, his mouth brushing against her cheek when he secretly whispers to her that he sucks at this, and Regina giggles, actually _giggles_ , when they step away from the counter to grab the cookie cutters and he throws a dimpled smile her way, his eyes sparkling as he bops the tip of her nose with flour, a gesture Regina returns in kind with a streak of flour to his cheek, and it's only when Mrs. Lucas calls them "adorable idiots" that they realize they've been flirting shamelessly while his family watches.

Regina is slightly embarrassed, but Robin is still staring at her, at her lips to be precise, and he's shifting somewhat closer, as if trying for a kiss, but they're interrupted by something falling on the floor with a clatter, an empty tray Zelena not-so-accidentally drops when she enters and takes in the scene before her. The tray lands far enough for Robin to need to take a few steps to retrieve it, effectively breaking the bubble they'd built around themselves.

But when they're alone in the kitchen, and the time comes to ice the gingerbread men Robin has proudly managed not to scorch, the flirtation is back, and _he_ is now the one teaching _her_ , holding her hands over the piping bag and squeezing just a bit of icing at a time, soothing words of encouragement and technique tips murmured softly against her ear as they draw the silhouette of the tiny cookie men. She could do this with her eyes closed, of course, but there's something about the intimacy of the moment that has her hiding her skills, letting him guide her hand over the golden brown cookies as they draw buttons and smiley faces with white icing.

It's innocent enough, but her very skin tingles under his touch, her body on fire thanks to his proximity, and she forgets about why she's here, what she's doing, is carried away by how good he feels, his chest molding to her back as they continue icing cookie after cookie in reverent silence, and suddenly they're not icing anything at all, but rather caught up in each other as Regina turns to face him, his gaze steady on her lips again as he draws nearer, but just as the space between their mouths disappears, a throat clears behind them, and they turn to find Walsh staring at them with a mischievous grin.

"Sorry, lovebirds, but you're taking way too long with those cookies," he teases, joining them in the kitchen and grabbing the piping bag with green icing. "Thought I'd help."

"Sure," Regina answers with a polite smile, stepping away from Robin, missing his body heat instantly. It's not for long, though, because next thing she knows, he's hugging her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder in that perfect couple-y sort of embrace that would make her fellow love cynics gag. At least he's good at acting the part, she thinks, there's little doubt everyone's bought into their false relationship at this point.

She's so caught up in all of these thoughts that Robin's laugh near her ear startles her a little, and she sees the source of his mirth when Walsh curses and tries to fix the shapeless lump of green icing he's just squeezed on top of his first cookie.

"You have to hold it at an angle," Robin explains, "and don't squeeze too hard, you always do and then you end up with that every year," he points to the botched cookie.

"He's a pain in the ass about his icing, isn't he?" Walsh asks her, smiling conspiratorially as he winks an eye at her, and Regina laughs, nods and says _yes, he most definitely is._

"But don't tell him I said that," she stage-whispers, to which Robin only rolls his eyes and moves to help his brother, bantering and laughing with him as they create random icing shapes on the cookies, and for a moment the uncomfortable situation of Walsh dating Robin's ex is forgotten. The scene before her tells Regina that this is something they've been doing together for a while, maybe even since they were kids, and she's glad that it's brought back the memory, that they can share a few minutes without the awkwardness of Walsh and Zelena's relationship hanging over them.

Of course not a second has passed since she's said this in her head when Zelena shows up in the kitchen again, and Regina scowls. Moment ruined.

She's smiling triumphantly as she enters, and it's only then that Regina notices she's carrying a large and very beautiful gingerbread house, one that looks incredibly familiar.

"I've just finished making this," the redhead announces proudly, and Regina has to resist the inclination to snort. Right, she made a professional looking gingerbread house in the less than two hours she was out, yeah, okay, she'll play along.

"That's beautiful," she congratulates, "looks _exactly_ like the display gingerbread house they had at the bakery we went to this morning," she says pointedly, and she sees the second Zelena realizes she hasn't fooled her, her eyes going wide, mouth set in a thin line, but Walsh is enamored with the thing, gives her a kiss on the cheek and smiles proudly at her, and Regina sighs, deciding not to tell anyone. She might be scrappy, but getting on Zelena Greene-maybe-soon-to-be-Locksley's bad side won't bode well for her. And besides, who hasn't lied once or twice to impress the boyfriend's family?

* * *

The real trouble comes after dinner, when Robin asks which guest room he should help set up for Regina (Marco's taken back his cabin, after all, so they need to figure out new sleeping arrangements). Mrs. Lucas raises an eyebrow, looks from one confused face to the other and then exclaims "She'll stay with you in _your_ room, Robin, of course! Marco's already been kind enough to take all her shopping bags and place them in your suite."

The hell?!

"You wouldn't expect me to send your girlfriend to a guest room, would you? Come on, dear, I may be old but I'm not a nun."

Oh, this is uncomfortable. So, so uncomfortable.

But it makes perfect sense.

Why would Robin's aunt think they'd need a guest room if they're "together"? Of course she'd assume Regina would stay with him, but somehow that tiny little detail had escaped her notice when she came up with this bizarre plan, and right now she has no idea how to respond. Thankfully, Robin reacts quicker.

"Of course, sorry, aunt Shirley, just wasn't sure... come on, darling," he says to Regina, the term sounding forced rather than endearing, "let's get to bed."

They shuffle up the stairs, wooden steps creaking under their feet, and it's the strangest situation she's ever found herself in, but she soldiers on, enters his room right behind him and offers an apologetic smile when he closes the door and looks at her, at a loss as to what to do now.

"Sorry, I guess I didn't think the whole thing through," she tells him.

"It's alright, you just wanted to help," he assures her, smiling genuinely at her as he adds, "and that means a lot to me, Regina, thank you."

She says nothing to that, only looks down and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, guilt eating at her from inside after he says such kind words.

The moment is over a second later, with Robin extending an arm towards the suite.

"Fancy a tour, your majesty?" he asks.

"Took you long enough, thief," she bites back with a grin, and Robin chuckles as he leads her around the place for a short walk. The room is huge, open, with walls painted in a light, muted brown that adds a certain coziness to the space. There's a large bathroom just to the side, with a hot tub and a shower, the ceramic tiles all in dark browns and blues, playing with the wooden colors of the house. There's a walk-in closet to the left, six bookshelves to the right near a desk and study area, and then there's the bed, the very large, very comfy-looking, very single bed.

Robin seems to sense her dilemma, and he runs a hand up and down her arm in reassurance.

"It's okay, I'll take the couch," he tells her, "it's actually quite comfortable."

"Are you sure?" she whispers her question, masking the initial shock at the fact that she hadn't even noticed the couch, too distracted by the prospect of sharing a bed with him to realize there was another option.

He confirms that yes, he's sure, and then tells her where to find towels for when she takes her shower, but Regina has imposed enough, and his kindness does nothing to help abate the guilt that overwhelms her when she looks at him, so she insists he shower and take care of his nightly routine first, tells him she needs to make a few phone calls anyway, that he should just go on ahead, and after much deliberation, he finally agrees, grabbing a green towel from the linen closet just outside the bathroom and disappearing behind the wooden door, leaving her alone in the bedroom.

It looks like him, she decides, or at least what little of him she's come to know in the past few hours. His books are the predominant feature, rows and stacks of them everywhere, in and out of shelves, lining the desk, some thrown carelessly over the two small tables on either side of the bed, others crammed into the furniture that holds his TV and sound system. He's a dreamer, she deduces, can easily imagine him sitting by the fireplace downstairs, thumbing reverently through one of the many volumes he keeps up here, getting lost in whatever world he's decided to escape to for the night, and she finds the mental image oddly endearing.

It makes her smile, regretting once again that she misjudged him, makes her eager to get to know him better... that's the second time she fully forgets she has ulterior motives to this whole charade, her mind and her heart carrying her away from her not-so-honorable intentions and settling her in the warm, tingly feeling of connecting with someone on a deeper level than she imagined.

She goes about setting the couch up for him (if he's sacrificing his bed, she at least wants to make sure he can sleep comfortably), gets out sheets and blankets from the linen closet while the shower runs, and if her mind traitorously conjures up images of a very wet, very naked Robin as she works, well, no one need ever know.

It's as she's tucking the sheet corners into the couch that she finds the folder wedged between the cushions. At first, she thinks it's nothing, random paperwork he probably left out of place and got lost in the plush upholstery, but when a page falls out, her curious eyes find the words _By Robin Locksley_ printed on the paper, and she realizes she's just inadvertently discovered another part of him, peeled yet another layer of his complex persona. So she abandons her task, plops herself on the couch, and she reads.

It's a story, a beautifully descriptive, fantastically written story about a resilient bandit and a handsome outlaw who find unlikely allies in each other, and bond over the pain of lost love in their respective pasts. It captivates her in seconds. It's been a while since she's read something so rich, words pouring out of the page like they were meant to flow together in this exact combination, to tell this exact tale, and Regina is instantly impressed by this hidden talent of his.

"Hey, I'm going down to get us some tea," his voice startles her a few minutes later, making her shove the pages back into the couch. She'd been so lost in the reading she hadn't heard him shut off the water, and now he's standing there, fluffy green towel wrapped around his waist as he runs another, smaller towel through his hair, and oh, what a sight he is. His body is perfectly built, with planes and dips in all the right places, muscled arms, chiseled chest and abs... he's beautiful. His smile is smug, amused because he knows he's affecting her, and she wants to be annoyed with him, but instead is entranced by the stray drop of water running down his bare chest, finds herself wishing she could lick it off to get a taste of his skin.

"Clothes, please?" she chokes out, because she can't very well have a conversation with him if he's going to just stand there looking all yummy in a towel.

"Right, sorry," he says instantly, noticing her sudden discomfort, darting to the closet and shutting the door behind him. He emerges a few seconds later, clad in gray, soft cotton pajama pants and a navy T-shirt. Much better.

"So, how about that tea?"

"Oh, uh, sure... thank you," she accepts, watching him go before she pulls the folder back out and continues reading, happily getting lost in the tortured bandit and handsome outlaw's first robbery together.

* * *

"What are you doing?" he says from behind her about a half hour later, and she jumps, not having heard him come up the stairs. He's in front of her now, setting the two cups of chamomile on the nightstand, brow furrowed as he looks at what she has in her hands. "That was not yours to take."

"I know, I'm so sorry, I just... found it and I couldn't stop myself," she excuses hurriedly, "but Robin, it's incredible."

Something in his guarded expression shifts at that, and he looks at her disbelievingly.

"How can you tell? It's only the first three chapters, you haven't read the rest."

"I know a good story when I see one."

"Right," is all he says, sounding less than confident, and it occurs to her that this is the first time she's seen him so shy. This story must mean a lot to him.

"It's amazing, Robin, really," she insists.

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do. It's beautiful," she tells him, because she'll lie about everything else, but not about this, never about this. She's a writer too, after all, she knows how protective one is about their own work.

They discuss his writing, what he likes, what made him come up with the story, the things he's found the hardest to pen, authors he admires, stories they both grew up with... and the passion with which he speaks, the spark in his eye when he describes his favorite books, it answers her question before she even thinks to ask it.

"This is why you haven't run for office yet, isn't it? You don't want to go into politics."

"No, I don't," he confirms, and the way his eyes widen makes her think it's probably the first time he's actually voiced the sentiment out loud.

"Well, then, you shouldn't."

"It's not that simple, Regina."

"Yes it is. Robin, this is good, _really_ good, and if writing is what makes you happy then that's what you should do."

"It's tradition for the eldest Locksley son to serve in public office," he recites.

"Fuck tradition," Regina counters, startling him with her choice of words. She takes both his hands then, squeezing as she looks into his eyes, "Robin, if what you want to do is write, then you should write. You're very talented, it'd be a shame to see you waste that just because you think somebody won't approve."

"That easy, huh?"

"Yes," she affirms, "and as your fake girlfriend and queen, I demand that you allow me to read the rest of this story, because I'll go crazy if I don't find out what happens next."

He chuckles at that, nods easily, and promises, "as you wish, milady. I'll print the rest out in the morning."

She jumps in the shower after that, giddy that she's managed to bring him some confidence with regards to his work, excited that she'll get to read more of his story tomorrow, that she'll spend more time with him and his fascinating family.

He's fast asleep when she emerges from the bathroom, and Regina can only smile, turning off the bedside lamp and settling into the covers with a whispered _good night, thief_ that goes unanswered.

* * *

The Misthaven School and Children's Home Christmas Charity Bake Sale has been a staple event in Saranac Lake for the past eleven years, Mrs. Lucas informs her over breakfast Friday morning, one where the entire community participates. The town is bustling with activity when they get there, adults and children alike hurrying down the streets to the small town square where dozens of tables are set up, all with delicious treats baked just for the occasion. Regina watches as the Locksley men and their aunt make their way to one of the larger tables labeled with their family name, and they set up immediately, displaying the gingerbread house Zelena's contributed to the sale, as well as the cookies Robin and Regina baked the night before.

A few people stop by to greet them, and Regina is introduced to many a family friend, including Robin's childhood partners in crime, John Little and August Booth, the latter of which makes a show of trying her cookies, chewing meticulously before he declares, "well, seems you've finally picked a good one, pal," making Robin laugh and press close to her side. She welcomes the contact, leans back into him and grins when he holds her around the waist and proudly agrees with his friend.

The day is full of smiles and Christmas cheer. During their lunch break, Regina catches Walsh sneaking a cookie or two to some of the children that stop by, asking them about their science projects, following up on the results of their latest math test. It's not just a random public appearance, she realizes, they _know_ these kids, spend time with them on the regular, address them all by name, inquire about things that are happening in their lives, and seem to enjoy their company as much as the kids do theirs. She notices that the children even address Mrs. Lucas as _Granny_ , and at her questioning glance, the woman merely smirks.

"I've asked them to call me that ever since they could talk, we're all used to it now."

"They're part of the family, then," Regina deduces, and just then a little girl runs right smack into Mrs. Lucas's legs, shouting "Granny! Violet and I made sugar cookies!" and hugging her tight.

"You did?! That's wonderful, Grace! Show me," she replies, throwing Regina an amused look that says _that should answer your question_ , and indeed it does.

She loses sight of Robin for a while as she helps clean up after their meal (Mrs. Lucas had enough turkey sandwiches and fruit to feed an army delivered to the square, so that everyone could have lunch together), and when she finds him, he's huddled in a bench with some of the children, reading to them, and she smiles when she recognizes the final verses of _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_ flowing beautifully from his lips, his accent and that raspy, deep voice of his giving a magical quality to the poem as he narrates it, complete with hand gestures and bright eyes as he looks at the kids rallied around him, and suddenly she's mouthing the words the whole way through, staring at him with a smile that gets dumber the closer he gets to the final verses.

 _He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,_

 _And away they flew, like the down of a thistle:_

 _But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight —_

 _Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night._

"The end," he tells them, and the children cheer and then drag him out to the snowy yard to play with them for a while.

The bake sale goes well, and Walsh shells out a few hundred on Zelena's gingerbread house (he excuses the purchase with a sheepish shrug and a casual "it's for charity," as he dumps the five hundred dollars into the cash box), something the insufferable redhead gushes about to anyone who'll listen because "isn't he just the most _darling_ boyfriend?", and Regina can only roll her eyes in annoyance. She catches Robin doing the same thing just seconds after, and they laugh at each other from across the table, Robin adding an amused shake of his head.

She's walking towards him, eager to reach him so they can make fun of Zelena's antics together, but then a brown-haired boy approaches him, making him tear his gaze away from hers. He smiles when he sees who's interrupted their silent communication, high-fives the kid and then looks back at her, beckoning her closer.

"Regina," he says when she's within earshot, "I'd like you to meet my other little brother, Henry."

She chuckles at the title, but extends a hand and a formal greeting to the boy nonetheless. He can't be more than nine or ten, dressed in worn jeans and a ratty navy jacket, a gray-and-red striped scarf wrapped around his neck.

"His _favorite_ little brother, but don't tell Walsh," he says with a mischievous smirk, sounding a little breathless as he shakes her outstretched hand. He looks a little flushed, his pale complexion showcasing tiny freckles along his nose and cheeks, his eyes are brown and clear, sparkling with that sense of adventure only young kids have.

"So," he says, turning his attention back to Robin, "rematch for last Saturday? You haven't beat me yet, old man."

"Old man?!" Robin gasps, flinging a dramatic hand to his chest in disbelief, "I'll show you old man, go get the ball."

Henry skips happily away, adding a cheerful and hurried "nice to meet you!" before he scampers off in search for the ball, and Regina smiles at Robin as they wait.

"I've known him since he was two," he explains, "he was such a scrawny little thing when Misthaven took him in, but they took great care of him, and he loves it there. I try to make time to come visit him as often as possible, we read together a lot during the winter, and play football when the weather allows it."

" _American_ football?" she asks with a raised eyebrow, somehow finding it a tad dangerous for a grown man to attempt to tackle a child.

"No, real football, though I suppose I should be used to calling it soccer by now, but I called it football for the first seventeen years of my life, so it stuck..."

"Much like the accent?" she teases, and he nods, adding a cheeky _You like the accent_ that she can only respond to with a shy grin.

"So... you played in school?" she guesses, and Robin nods sheepishly.

"Defense, I was quite good," he says with a hint of pride, and, "ah, here we are," he adds when Henry shows up with the soccer ball.

"You don't mind, do you? It'll only be a little while."

She assures him that she's fine, that he should go play and try to get his dignity back, "I won't be caught dating a man who gets beaten by a nine year-old."

"I'm _ten_ ," Henry grouses from where he stands in wait, and Regina corrects her statement, returns the wink Robin throws her way, and then watches him play with the boy, acting like a child himself in the way he laughs and screams his joy so freely.

She's struck again by how wrong she was about him. Robin Locksley is a good person, someone who cares about others and likes to spend time with local orphan children, someone who makes her laugh, who burns bacon and can ice and decorate cookies to perfection, someone who has wormed his way into her heart with his soft touches and lingering looks, and she decides right then and there that she cannot bear to see him heartbroken over his brother's choice of bride, so if a fake girlfriend is what he needs to get through this weekend, then she'll be the best damn fake girlfriend she can be. Forget the article, she tells herself, she'll deal with that later, right now what matters is making sure Robin has a fun, unforgettable time this weekend.

She joins their soccer game after a few minutes, not content with being a mere spectator, and then Zelena pauses her conversation with Marco to watch them, her eyes hungry as she looks Robin up and down, so Regina turns the game from fun competition to shameless flirting. She takes Robin's hand, tackles him to the snowy floor in an attempt to kick the ball away from him, loving the sound of his laughter when she sneaks a minute kiss to the tip of his nose, a gesture that he returns with a quick peck to her cheek, and she tells herself it's just for show, that what she's feeling is merely the adrenaline of the game zapping through her body and not the tingling where his lips touched her skin, but then Henry admits defeat and hurries to grab the last few cookies from 'Granny', and they're left alone, chatting and enjoying each other's company for a couple more hours.

The sun is starting to set when Robin reveals to her his tradition of sprinting towards the house earlier than the rest of his family, to make hot cocoa while the others pack up, and have the drink waiting for them when they get home, marshmallows and candy canes overflowing from a large bowl next to the mugs full of chocolaty goodness. She joins him eagerly, and the drive back is a fun one, with Christmas carols blasting from the radio, adorning the winter scenery around them as they reach the house.

* * *

The chocolate is ready and hot on the coffee table in the living room, but the others have yet to arrive, so Regina joins Robin on the sofa by the fireplace, both of them with mugs full of chocolate in hand, and it occurs to her that there's no audience here, no one to convince of their supposed relationship, and yet they're cuddled together, his arm around her shoulders and her body nestled against him, head tucked into the crook of his neck as they sip their drinks in silence, and Regina can't remember ever feeling this relaxed.

That is, until he starts kissing her.

It starts out with an innocent buss of his lips against her hairline, then another on her brow, and a third one to her knuckles when he sets his mug on the table and takes her free hand in his.

"You know, when you first suggested this whole thing, I thought it would be the worst ruse ever," he confesses.

"And now?" she asks with a grin.

"Now, I... don't want it to be a ruse."

The words are whispered, his lips hovering over hers, and the sincerity in his voice triggers her guilt, has her stopping his advances even when she wants so badly to kiss him, but she can't, not like this. She untangles herself from him, setting her mug on the table next to his and nervously standing up from the sofa, stopping only when he calls after her.

"I'm sorry," he tells her when she turns to look at him, and she stares at him in disbelief.

"Why are you sorry?"

"What I was doing, I shouldn't have... not after you've just escaped your own wedding. I pushed you, I'm sorry."

Her gut aches at the innocent statement, and he has no idea, he really doesn't, because he trusts her, and she feels like scum now, she _is_ scum, she can't believe she did this, ruin what's shaping up to be the best relationship she's ever had, and all before it even really began.

"Robin, this has nothing to do with that, I want to, I really do," she admits, "nothing would make me happier. But I can't, not right now, I don't deserve to."

That last sentence seems to confuse him, and he instantly protests her self-consciousness.

"Regina, if anyone deserves to be happy, it's you," he insists, and god if that doesn't twist the knife in her heart even more. "You're kind, and smart, and selfless. I mean, look at what you're doing for me! You're stunning, in every way, and I know this may have started as you trying to help me save face with my family after the stunt Walsh pulled, but I think... I _feel_ , that there's more between us, and I know you feel it too."

She doesn't know what to say to that, looks around nervously, feeling her traitorous eyes fill with unshed tears, but it seems Robin's caught on to how affected she is by everything, and he takes pity on her, changes the subject to something she's certain he thinks will lighten the mood, but instead has her freaking out completely.

There's a gala in Aunt Shirley's honor tomorrow night, he informs her, black tie, glamorous and grand, and his face falls when she doesn't reply, but rather gasps at the news.

"I have nothing to wear!" she exclaims, and he relaxes visibly when he finally understands her reaction.

"Well, you could always wear flannel, you know how much I like that on you," he taunts, but she's in no mood for his games right now, glowers at him instead, and Robin raises his hands in surrender, still grinning at her.

"Come with me," he says, guiding her up the stairs to the bedroom. There are at least a dozen garment bags on the bed, all of them from local designer boutiques, shoe boxes and assorted accessories strewn about for her to mix and match.

"I got these for you this morning while you and aunt Shirley were having breakfast. I would've taken you personally, but there were a few photographers gearing up for the bake sale, and I'm one of their favorite targets, I didn't feel you'd enjoy that kind of attention," he explains, and she turns to him, her mouth still half-open in disbelief that he's gone and done this for her. "You can try them on, pick whichever one you'd like, and if you hate them all then we'll go find you more options, but I've no doubt you'll look ravishing no matter what you pick."

"Even if it's flannel?" she teases, making him laugh.

" _Especially_ if it's flannel," he counters, making her blush as he rakes his gaze over her.

"Thank you," she murmurs, meaning it more than she's ever meant anything in her life.

"No, thank _you_ , Regina. Our encounter... having you here... I haven't had this much fun in a while," he says, his tone honest and unwavering before he jumps and says, "Oh! One more thing," and grabs something from the top drawer of the desk, offering it to her. It's a thick stack of paper, and she gasps when she realizes it's the full manuscript of his story, presented to her simply because she'd asked it of him, and he looks so shy as he places it in her hands, so hesitant to entrust his life's passion to her critical eye, but he's doing it anyway, showing her a part of himself he's never shown anyone else. Her affection for him overwhelms her then, and she finds she cannot resist it anymore.

Placing the manuscript carefully on top of one of the garment bags on the bed, she turns to him, tangles her hand in the hair at the back of his neck, and crashes their lips together.

His hands are suddenly there, holding on to her tightly as his arms wind around her form, bodies pressed together as their frenzied mouths explore each other. His tongue licks her bottom lip after his teeth graze it gently, her answering moan making him gasp, hurrying the movements of his mouth on hers to an almost desperate pace.

His hand runs up and down her back, until it lands on the curve of her ass in one of its downward strokes, and she whimpers when he squeezes and brings her impossibly closer, the kiss slowing, but losing none of its intensity. She licks at his tongue, sucks his upper lip between both of hers, rasps his name when he drops his head and peppers delicious kisses along her neck and jaw, and _god_ , how stupid she was to even think she could resist this in the first place.

She searches for him, her mouth seeking his again, whimpering when she finds him, and the harsh way she bites on his lower lip makes him thrust his hips into hers, and she can feel him over their clothes, hardening and warm against the slickness that's beginning to form between her thighs.

Her hands move up to hold his face and slow them down, his own joining them and wrapping fingers around her wrists to keep her there, her thumbs rubbing over his cheeks as she continues to kiss him, continues to moan under his attentions as lips suck and tongues meet delicately. He tastes of the chocolate they'd been drinking earlier, sweet and rich and wonderful, and she's pressed against the wall now, his hands abandoning hers so they can roam freely down her top, careful not to touch her breasts, and she laughs into the heady kiss they're still sharing, because he's still trying to be polite, and Regina wants none of that. Her hand finds his, brings it up to her breasts, and they knead the swells together, his thumb flicking over her right nipple through her bra and thin top, and _fuck_ , he feels so good...

Her shirt is rucked up under her armpits in seconds, and she's still leaning against the wall, a feast for his hungry eyes as he licks his lips and stares at her, his lust evident in the almost possessive way he grabs her and kisses her once again, his mouth latched onto her neck, tongue swirling over her skin as his hand roams lower, and her desperate nod when he asks if it's okay has him cupping between her legs, then rubbing at her over her jeans, the seam of them positioned right by her clit, causing glorious friction to erupt, and she's so wet, so close already, and she shouldn't be doing this, but she can't bring herself to tell him to stop, it feels too good.

"Robin," she breathes against him, and he grunts at the sound, the movements of his hand growing quicker, and in her lust-induced haze she bites at his shoulder, trembling hands moving under his shirt to help him remove it, and she is so goddamn conflicted, but all that beautiful bare skin is suddenly there for her to taste, to explore, and whatever war her rational side was waging in her head against continuing this, instantly evaporates.

He's telling her how beautiful she is, gasping it into her ear as he continues to rub at her, and her hand takes hold of him, hard and ready under his trousers, palms up and down over the fabric and then undoes the button, venturing in and feeling him, hot and pulsing as she pumps.

Their kisses turn into a hovering of mouths over each other, breaths mingling and eyes closed as they bring each other to that coveted peak of pleasure, and then she's there, shouting his name and coming as he continues to rub, thrusting involuntarily into her hand.

"God, you're stunning," he rasps against her collarbone, and Regina is still in a daze, tingling all over from the orgasm he's just provided, but she tightens her grasp on him a little, just enough to keep up with the roll of his hips against her, her thumb making feather-light passes over his tip, and she pushes against his chest, turns them so that it's him against the wall, his cock still trapped in the warmth of her grip and the smooth fabric of his pants.

He comes on her hand when she sneaks a teasing bite to his jaw, peppers kisses along his throat as he comes down from his high, and then they're kissing again, hard, their passion fully unleashed now that they've reached this new level of intimacy, and she wonders why they didn't do this sooner.

 _Because you're lying to him_ , a voice says in her head.

Right.

"Thank you," she says shyly, when they finally part with swollen lips and short breaths, clarifies, "for showing me your novel," as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and chuckles. "I'll read it in the morning."

"I look forward to your thoughts," he tells her with a dimpled smile, his fingers lingering on her chin as he plants one final kiss on her lips, and then another on her forehead, and then he leads her to the bathroom, washes her hand of the evidence of his orgasm. She insists that she can wash her hands on her own, and he tells her he knows, but continues to run sudsy fingers over her palm, the delicate touch soothing her.

When they're done, he stays in the bathroom to clean up and change, and while he does that Regina puts on her pajamas, clears the bed of all the things he brought for her. She'll pick something out in the morning.

They resume their cuddling, this time on the bedroom couch instead of the living room, and they don't emerge when the others get home, but they hear their compliments on the hot chocolate, and the indecorous comments from Marco and Shirley on what they assume is keeping Robin and Regina from joining them. It makes them laugh as they look at each other, Regina shaking her head after hearing Robin's aunt discuss her nephew's need to get laid, something that makes Robin smack his palm against his face, truly mortified.

"And on that note," he says, "I think it's time we get to sleep."

Regina laughs, but takes pity on him, nods her head and heads to the bed. It seems a little ridiculous to sleep apart after what they just did, but they've blurred enough lines as it is, so they decide to keep this one stipulation in place for now.

"Good night, thief," she says when she's burrowed under the covers and he's settled on the couch.

"Good night, your majesty," he responds, his cheery mood evident in his tone.

Sleep takes a while to come, but when it does, they both succumb to it smiling like fools.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Merry Christmas, everyone!_**

 ** _Here we go, final chapter! I'll upload the epilogue later today so keep an eye out for that so you can read the conclusion to this story._**

 ** _Thank you so much for all your kind words and reviews._**

 ** _Hope you're all having a wonderful holiday!_**

* * *

When morning comes, she begs off the trip to town, stays in with her breakfast and Robin's novel propped up in her lap. Her phone rings about an hour into her reading. Ruby.

"Hi!" she whisper-shouts into the phone.

"So how goes your undercover life among the hoity and toity?" her assistant quips.

"Not at all what I expected. I mean, sure, they're rich but… they're actually nice."

"I'm sorry?!" Ruby exclaims on the other end. Regina asks her to hold on, throwing on her coat over her pjs and heading outside to the balcony with her phone, an extra precaution in case the others return early.

"Ok go," she tells the younger woman.

"Did I just hear you use the word 'nice' about the celebrity subject of your story?"

"You did, and I'm actually starting to feel really guilty. And gross."

"Do I need to send out the SWAT team for immediate extraction?" Ruby questions, sounding worried but amused at the same time.

"I'm serious," she persists, "it's really been kind of awesome."

"Sooo… no scandal?"

"Just bake sales and soccer. And not for PR either, for actual charity, they even know the kids from the local school and have games and stuff all the time," she tells her, feeling the smile forming on her face at her memories of the day before.

"That's the most boring gossip I've ever heard."

"I know. It's lovely, isn't it?" Regina says with a giggle, and she just knows Ruby's about to mock her childish excitement, but there's noise from downstairs, and she cuts her call short, promising to report back later.

The house is loud and full of people again in seconds, and she marks her spot on the novel, joins them for lunch, and then secludes herself in the room again, easily sucked back into the world Robin's created. She passes on Mrs. Lucas's offer to join her and get their hair done for the gala, not wanting to miss a single available minute to read, and by the time she's done, she's crying her eyes out on the bedroom couch.

She's a cynic, has never really believed in love (her past experiences are enough for her to want to give a wide berth to the mere idea of it), but there's something about the way Robin weaves the words together on paper that have her longing for that feeling, rooting for the characters to get their happy ending. It's perfect, the story, full of twists and turns and unexpected but beautiful moments that make her smile and cry and want the entire world to feel the same things right along with her... and then she has an idea.

Robin is out with his brother getting their suits for tonight, Marco is back at his cabin, and Mrs. Lucas is still at the hairdressers, with Zelena probably yammering nonsense right next to her, so Regina takes advantage of the empty house, grabs a large manila envelope from Robin's desk and carefully places the pages inside, sealing it and addressing it to Elle Tinker at Neverland Publishing House, with a personal note inside that reads CONFIDENTIAL, and has a pseudonym she makes up to protect Robin's privacy, along with a tiny, simple scribble on the side in reference to her last phone conversation with her friend.

 _I wept. Hope you do, too._

 _-Regina._

 _PS: Please don't throw this one out the window._

With trembling hands, she picks up the phone and dials for August, the childhood friend of Robin's she'd been introduced to at the bake sale (his number is amongst those Robin keeps on the Post-Its stuck to the surface of his desk, so she finds it easily). In their brief conversation, he'd told her he'd be heading back to his apartment on Bleecker Street tonight, and thankfully she catches him before he leaves, asks him if it'll be too much trouble to run the package down to its destination, since he's already headed to the city (she tells him it's from Robin, of course, so that it's less awkward of a favor for him to accept). August tells her it's not a problem, and is at the house in under ten minutes to pick up the envelope. He's a scruffy looking fellow, dismounting what Regina can only describe as an impressive motorcycle, an overlarge messenger bag slung over one shoulder as he trails muddy leather boots up the front steps and greets Regina with a polite smile, taking the package from her.

"I'm sorry for making you run here on such short notice," she apologizes instantly, but he waves her off, tells her it's no big deal, that he'll do anything for Robin, and they banter a little as they discuss the upcoming festivities. He's a cynic, much as she is, but it's as she talks with him that Regina discovers her views on romance aren't as sour anymore, and it's all because of Robin.

"You know, you're probably the first girlfriend of his I've actually liked," August tells her, startling her from her reverie. "Granted, I've only ever met one other."

"Ah, you mean the woman who is now parading herself around on the arm of his brother?" she throws back, adding a high-pitched, "aren't they just _darling_?" in a perfect imitation of Zelena's voice.

August rolls his eyes at that, not even trying to hide his dislike for the woman, and Regina laughs, thanks him again, and promises him a batch of gingerbread cookies for his troubles.

"You're an angel," he says with a wink after she makes her offer, adding a sincere "I really hope you stick around," as his farewell, zipping up his leather jacket and securing his helmet before he jumps back on his Harley.

It's as he's speeding off into the pavement with one last wave at Regina that Marco and Walsh arrive, with Robin trailing just behind and smiling at her oh-so-beautifully, his eyes shining with mirth when they find hers, hands wrapping around her waist and lips depositing a little kiss on her cheek after she politely greets the others.

She blushes at his gesture, and then tells him she really should go get ready, scampering off and up the stairs after a quick peck to the corner of his mouth, and she can almost _feel_ the stupid smile etched on his face as he watches her go.

Regina tries on three of the eight dresses Robin purchased for her, settles on a long, softly pleated, bright red gown that clings to her figure, with a sweetheart neckline and a heavy, pleated mermaid skirt billowing out at the bottom. She sets her hair in loose waves, tumbling about her shoulders, keeps her makeup light, but striking enough for a night out, slips on a pair of strappy heels, and dons simple accessories in the shape of a clear, round Swarovski crystal on a thin gold necklace, with stud earrings to match.

She descends the stairs slowly, finds Mrs. Lucas, Marco, Walsh and Zelena all waiting by the foyer. They compliment her (well, all except Zelena anyway), Marco being especially galant as he tells her she looks absolutely gorgeous, and then Walsh calls out to his brother to hurry him up.

When Robin shows up on the foyer, Regina has to remind herself they have an audience, she can't jump him in front of his family, but oh, how she wants to.

He's in a black suit that fits him so well she's jealous of the fabric, of the way it hugs his muscles in all the right places. The best part of the outfit, though, is the silk tie he's wearing, patterned in burgundy, black and forest green plaid, a reference, she's sure, to their little flannel inside joke, and the gesture warms her heart in ways she didn't know it _could_ be warmed.

It's his expression when he sees her, however, what she likes the most about the moment. He's gobsmacked, and Regina congratulates herself on a job well done, smiling smugly when he rakes his gaze over her, his mouth half open in bewilderment.

"You look... " he trails off, shaking his head in amazement as he once again stares at her from head to toe, and out of the corner of her eye, Regina sees Mrs. Lucas quietly laughing at her nephew's reaction. "Stunning," he says dumbly, seeming to finally regain his vocabulary.

She nods her thanks, feeling a bit of a blush rise to her cheeks at the reverent way he's still looking at her. He offers his arm, smiles when she hooks hers around it, and together they walk out ahead of the others, making their way to the car.

* * *

The venue looks gorgeous, garlands decorating banisters, curtains of white tulle with twinkle lights draped over pillars and walls, Christmas trees lining every corner, everything decked in gold and white, with poinsettias adding a hint of red to offset the monotonous color scheme. Beautiful, tasteful.

The night is going splendidly. Robin is an absolute gentleman, brings her champagne almost the second they arrive, and together they sit and laugh at some of the extravagant outfits they see around the room.

When he goes to fetch them another drink, she's left alone at their table, and Regina sets eyes on the most endearing sight in the whole event: Marco dancing with Mrs. Lucas. They're adorable to watch, so intimate and trusting in the way they hold each other, and it makes her realize there's more than friendship there, which she supposes explains why Marco is so close to the family when he's not exactly related to any of them, and she's genuinely happy for them, smiles as she follows their movement across the dance floor, and then, because nothing can go right in her life for more than a minute, she catches sight of the last person she wants to deal with today.

Sidney.

He's in a sharp, well-tailored suit, looks so impeccable he'd blend right in with the crowd if he wasn't acting so shady. He's walking slowly across the room, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he's not followed or noticed, and Regina sprints into action when she sees him head to the exit, follows right after him, and finds him casually discussing the Locksleys with an unsuspecting guest just outside the door, obviously trying to gather information.

When said guest heads back inside after what seems nothing more than a pleasant chat, Sidney turns to her with a sneer.

"I noticed you were following me, come to surrender?" he asks, smiling deviously at her. Regina rolls her eyes, grabs his arm and forces him into a secluded enough corner.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" she barks.

"Same thing as you. Was that Robin Locksley I saw you latched onto?" he taunts.

"So what if it was?"

"I wonder, what do you think is going to keep me from ratting you out to the entire family, and blowing whatever cover it is you have..."

"The knowledge that if you do, I'll blow yours in retaliation, and then neither of us gets the story," Regina fires back with an evil glare. Thankfully, her threat works, and Sidney sighs.

"Fine, truce?" he asks, offering a hand.

"Truce," she accepts, shaking it.

They emerge from their hiding spot, walk away in different directions, unaware that they're being watched. Sidney goes on his nosy way, and Regina heads back to Robin, who awaits with a smile and a new glass of champagne for her. She forgoes the drink, puts both flutes on the table, and drags him to the dance floor, because Sidney's appearance has reminded her that this won't last, and she wants to enjoy this final night with him, to feel him hold her close and warm her up with his touch and the way he looks at her while she still can.

He doesn't disappoint, leads her in a waltz that they laugh and stumble through, his hands steady on her, her feet not so much, but it's fun, light and wonderful, and Robin beams at her, tells her once again how breathtaking she looks, and then he bites his lip, apprehensive.

"What?" she asks, still chuckling at their sloppy dancing.

"Just thinking about last night... You're quite a good kisser, Regina," he finally admits, sheepish grin forming on his face. She exhales a laugh at that, attempts to speak, but he's not done yet.

"I'd very much like to kiss you again, if you let me."

Well, then. Who is she to deny him?

She nods her head once as they stretch their arms away from each other on a backward step, and at her approval, Robin draws her in, one arm wrapping smoothly around her waist, while the other brings their joint hands to rest wedged between their chests when he moves closer, his lips finding hers in seconds. She can't help it, she grins into the kiss, but returns it nonetheless, their frames still swaying slightly, but completely out of sync with the music, lost as they are in the moment, in each other.

When they part, they look around with guilty smiles, realize they've fallen out of the step count, and clumsily try to regain their rhythm, laughing when they can't.

"I have a better idea," she offers, taking his hand and dragging him away from the dance floor, to a shadowy corner behind one of the tulle-and-twinkle-light-curtained walls, and she doesn't even wait for him to take in their surroundings, crashing their lips together and laughing airily when he veers away from her mouth, drops his head to pepper kisses down the column of her throat, her jaw, her nose. When he finds her lips again, it's slow, incredible, tongues wet and sliding in sweet ecstasy.

One of his hands finds her waist again, grips her tight and pull her closer, and the other dives into her hair, messing up the carefully crafted waves, playing with them until they're tousled and tangled in his fingers, and it feels delicious, amazing, having him this close, kissing her like there's no tomorrow (and there isn't, she reminds herself, so she kisses him back harder).

"Regina," he gasps, moaning from low in his throat when she bites his lower lip, and she grins in satisfaction, whimpers when the hand on her waist drops tentatively to her ass, and he takes the sound as permission to fully grasp and squeeze as he kisses her, his grip pushing her pelvis closer to him, and she can feel him, not fully hard but well on his way, and it has her rubbing her thighs, adding more tongue to their kiss, tasting him and Mmm-ing at the combined sensations.

Something falls nearby, breaks noisily, glass shattering, and they stumble apart to catch a drunken, elderly man staring wistfully at what's left of his champagne flute. They laugh, and Robin suggests they should perhaps get back to their table, and leave the "snogging like teenagers" bit for when they get home. Regina agrees, lets him steal one last peck from her lips, and then sends him on, telling him she has to head into the bathroom for a bit to check her makeup.

"No need, I'll be your mirror, you're gorgeous," he says.

"And you're cheesy," she counters, but the corner of her mouth lifts in amusement, and so Robin remains unaffected by her testy tone.

"You like that I'm cheesy," he says, leaning in for another kiss, but she stops him, pushes against his chest gently with one hand and tells him to behave. Robin pouts, and _god_ , she just wants to kiss that pout away, but she resists, sends him back to the table again and promises she'll be there soon, and this time, he does as he's told, walking backwards so he can stare at her longer, not turning around until he bumps into the sloshed old man whose breaking glass interrupted their makeout session.

Regina makes her way to the bathroom, cheeks still flushed and lips swollen from all that kissing. She's almost done fixing her makeup when Zelena walks in, gives her a fake smile, dabs on a bit of lipstick, and Regina just _knows_ she's about to throw some wicked comment her way, some ridiculous insult asserting her superiority over her, one that maybe even claims Robin as hers instead of free to do as he wishes, and so she waits, staring at the other woman in the mirror.

"You know, you may think that because you have Robin, now you're the family favorite, but that's just a temporary position," she finally says, her tone haughty and obnoxious.

"Yes, well, you would know, wouldn't you, dear?" Regina replies with a condescending smile, amused at how much Zelena seethes while stomping out of the bathroom, unable to figure out a good enough comeback.

She stays in there a little longer, tries to tame her hair from the lousy mass of waves Robin's eager fingers turned it into. When she looks presentable again, she heads back to the party, shocked by what she finds there.

Robin is standing by their table, Zelena pressed close, running a hand softly up and down his arm as she murmurs something Regina has no doubt is salacious and nostalgic in nature. She's just desperate, isn't she? What an idiot.

She saddles up to him, her hand taking his, and he relaxes visibly at her touch, so she prolongs it, kisses his cheek and smiles at him before she turns to Zelena.

"I'll take my boyfriend back now, thank you," she tells her, her tone pleasant, passing the comment off as an innocent joke, and Zelena has no choice but to let go, walking away to find Walsh. Robin instantly panics.

"Regina, I'm so sorry, it's not what you think. She... she said some things, about how she misses me, I told her I didn't... I would never... I don't want you to think that I was encouraging her."

He's cute when he's agitated, she notes for the second time since she's known him, and smiles serenely at him to put him at ease.

"Robin, it's alright, I believe you," she tells him, tickled by how surprised he seems at her untroubled acceptance, and the hand he had tentatively placed on her arm as he babbled now trails a path on her skin as it rubs up and down, his smile tired, but genuine.

"Shall we head back to the dance floor, then?" he offers, and Regina agrees without a thought, letting him lead her to a good enough spot. But before they take up their waltz again, the band is stopping, and a quick scan of the area tells them it's Walsh who is asking them to halt their playing.

Zelena is there with him, and Regina watches in absolute shock as he takes her hand and brings her to the very center of the floor, smiling like a lovesick puppy and sinking to one knee as he pulls a red velvet box from his pocket. She can't see the ring, or hear much of what he's saying, but she catches bits and pieces, like the reverent "you're everything to me," and the heartfelt, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you".

Next thing she knows the happy couple is hugging and laughing, Zelena's enthusiastic nod and loud whisper of "yes, of course!" making their audience erupt in cheers as Walsh places the rock on her finger. Regina can see it now, huge and sparkly, ostentatious and way too flashy for her liking, but it's exactly the kind of ring women like Zelena tend to favor. Walsh did well.

She can feel Robin tensing up next to her the more the scene before them unfolds, so she leans in close, whispers in his ear, "How about we get out of here?"

He nods, still staring at his brother, but lets himself be pulled away by Regina, making their way to the car in no time. She drives this time, Robin too shocked to do much right now. She feels for him, knows this has nothing to do with his past relationship with Zelena and everything to do with his little brother marrying a gold digger. He wants to protect Walsh from her, and he doesn't know how.

She'd intended for them to talk, to maybe sit by the fire and sip hot cocoa while he let out his frustrations, but they've barely closed the front door behind them after entering when he presses her against it, his lips hungry on hers, hands roaming her body, and she gives in to the sensations, kisses back just as fiercely.

He's a bit bolder in how he touches her, somewhat ferocious, like he wants to feel this raw physical pull they have to each other rather than his anger and exasperation at the new turn of events, which is most _definitely_ fine by her, if he's gonna keep kissing her like this, all heated tongues and grazes of teeth against her throat when he veers away from her mouth, hands gripping and squeezing. But she's been deceiving him, has lied and abused his trust to achieve her own despicable ends, so she can't sleep with him, not like this, not with him thinking her someone kind and pure when she's anything but. And yet she can't bring herself to tell him, because he's upset, and she won't pile on yet another reason for him to be miserable right now.

Instead, she slows down their kisses, lets her tongue move languidly against his, sucks gently at his lower lip and then tears herself away from him, looking into his hooded eyes as they catch their breath.

"Robin, breathe," she tells him soothingly, rubbing a hand up and down his arm, moving up and trailing the backs of her fingers over his cheek, the tickling scrape of his stubble against her skin feels so wonderful she sighs just as he closes his eyes and leans into the touch, following her soft order, breathing slowly in and out, calming himself enough to sag against her, and Regina just holds him, wraps her arms around him and tells him it's going to be okay.

She's pressing a kiss to his temple in their quiet embrace when the front door opens, and in come the future bride and groom, followed by Mrs. Lucas and Marco, who still look shocked and a little indignant at the news. But Robin's had time and her physical reassurance to recoup, and immediately goes after Walsh.

"Please don't marry her," he begs, and Zelena turns to him, shocked.

"Robin!" Mrs. Lucas exclaims, and Marco merely stares.

"Brother," Walsh begins, "I know it's a little weird, but we'll get used to it, we've been doing good this weekend, haven't we? And you have Regina now, surely we can-"

"This isn't about Zelena being my bloody ex, it's about the kind of person she is. You don't know her like I do, Walsh. She doesn't love you, she doesn't love anyone, don't marry her," Robin insists.

"Honey, you need to calm down, please, let's approach this rationally," Mrs. Lucas tries to intervene again, but Walsh is already replying to Robin's remark, so Marco puts his hand on her arm, asks her to let Robin handle this.

"I may be the youngest but I am _not_ a child," Walsh refutes, "I _want_ to share my life with her, I won't have any of you insulting that decision," he says firmly, grabbing Zelena's hand, and Regina notices the triumphant little smile that the smug bitch is giving Robin now, and it makes her blood boil, but she doesn't interfere, Robin needs to get this out of his system, she won't tread on that.

"All she's after is the privileges of being part of this family, Walsh! She's not in this because she cares, she just wants unlimited access to your bank accounts and to be on magazine covers!"

"That's interesting of you to say, considering who you're dating," Zelena spits. _Oh, no._

"How dare you?!" Robin seethes at her, "Do not drag Regina into this!"

"Oh, but I will, you see, while you were being the dashing boyfriend and getting her a drink, I saw her talking to a reporter from _Kings and Queens Magazine_ which, I found out upon a quick online search, is also _her_ current place of employment... "

Zelena's words fade into the background, but Regina sees it, sees the truth smack into Robin like a punch in the gut, the light behind his eyes going dull the second they settle on her and take in the regret on her face. It hurts her more than anything else ever has.

"Robin," she says cautiously, "I can explain."

"She's here to get information for an exposé on the family, nothing more. She's one of the magazine's head writers, it's on their website, you can check it yourself if you don't believe me," Zelena continues.

"Would you shut up?!" Regina snaps, and it's only then that Robin speaks.

"Leave," he tells her, and it's quiet, almost impossible to hear, but the word still settles like a dead weight in her stomach, and tears spring to her eyes before she can help it.

"Robin, please, it's not like that. I... I _was_ going to write an article on the engagement, but then I met you, all of you," she adds, grabbing both his hands in hers and looking around at Marco and Walsh and Mrs. Lucas, "and I decided not to. You mean something to me. I wouldn't do anything to harm you or your family, please believe that."

"So what went on between us..." Robin whispers.

"Was _real_ ," Regina completes, "my feelings for you were - _are_ \- real."

She's desperate now, pleading with him to believe her, rubbing nervous thumbs over his knuckles, and for a moment she thinks he understands, that he's deciding to give her a second chance, but then his stare hardens, and he shakes his head.

"No, you lied to me, you... I can't trust anything you say."

"Robin..."

"Get out, Regina. Your car is in the garage all fixed and ready, keys are upstairs. Please just pack your things and go."

He doesn't give her a chance to respond, lets go of her and exits the house, sprinting away into the woods in the middle of the night, because he'd rather endure the cold than look at her, it seems, and she knows she deserves that, knows he shouldn't give her a chance, that he shouldn't have to accept what she's done, but it still stings that he wants nothing to do with her, has her heart breaking and pain settling in the cracks.

"I'm so sorry," she tells Mrs. Lucas directly, "hurting you is the last thing I wanted."

The woman stares at her, but stays quiet, and Marco nods his head in silence, Walsh is pacing the foyer, pointedly ignoring her, and Zelena just stands there, every bit as smug as before, so Regina feels the need to add, "Walsh, please talk to him. He's your brother, he just wants to protect you."

She heads upstairs then, packs her bags silently and changes from her fancy gown into black sweats and Robin's flannel shirt, not bearing the thought of leaving it behind.

There's a knock on her door, and Marco enters carrying a large garment bag in his hands, the letters NOVA FASHIONS emblazoned on the top of it.

"I believe this is yours," he tells her, "I had Astrid fix it, she owns one of the boutiques in town. Mind you, it won't look exactly like it did before it got ripped apart, but I hope the modifications are to your liking anyway."

It's the dress. She'd completely forgotten about it, left it hanging in the cabin after she took it off that first night and didn't think of it again until now, when he's handing it back to her looking like some Vera Wang masterpiece instead of the disaster Mary Margaret was supposed to wear.

"Thank you," she says quietly, "you really didn't have to do that."

She doesn't even bother to explain the origin of the gown, or why she had it in the first place, only takes the bag from him and goes back to packing.

"It's not a problem, Ms. Mills," Marco says, and that stops her, eyes wide.

"What did you call me?" she asks, making sure she heard correctly, because as far as everyone in this house knows, her last name is Millstone, not Mills.

"Do you really think I'd just let a total stranger into our home without doing a background check first?" he says with a good-natured chuckle.

"You knew?! All this time?!" she's baffled.

"Of course I did," he says with a kind smile.

"Then why...?" she starts to ask, not knowing exactly what she wants to ask first. Why didn't he say anything? Why did he let her go on like this? Why did he trust her to be around the family?

"Because, my dear, Robin has never looked at a woman the way he looks at you."

It should make her happy, the notion that Robin's feelings for her are as genuine and strong as hers for him, but instead it hurts, because all it does is remind her of how she ruined the best thing she could've had.

"He doesn't want to look at me now."

"He has a right to be angry."

"I know that," she replies despondently.

"He cares about you, Regina, but he's wounded, just let him heal."

"I know that, too."

"Love isn't easy, but it's worth it. God knows it's taken us a while to grasp that, but we're all the better for it." He seems so open, so honest, his eyes soft, relaxed, and it dawns on her that she was right in her suspicions.

"You and Shirley," she states knowingly. His nod is slow, but he's grinning, and she smiles back in kind.

"I'm happy for you both," she says in a broken whisper, her tears finally unleashed.

"Oh, my darling girl," Marco consoles her, moving to hug her so she can sob on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she tells him yet again, devastated at what she's done, because she cares about Robin, about this family, and she's lost them and it's all her fault.

"I know," Marco responds, stays with her until her crying has subsided enough to finish packing, and escorts her to the garage.

When she climbs into the driver's seat of Mal's perfectly repaired car, she sees Robin in the distance, walking across the grounds with his head down, his silhouette dark against the stark white of the snow that covers his surroundings.

It's the last she sees of him before she drives off, tears clouding her eyes again.

* * *

A hug.

A fierce, bone-crushing hug.

That is what Regina gets from Mary Margaret two days later, when she delivers the gown and tells her every single detail of her weekend in Saranac. She was expecting a frying pan to the head, if she's honest, seeing as she's just shown up at her friend's apartment and admitted to wearing her wedding dress, traipsing around in snowy, muddy hills with it, ripping part of it to shreds, and spending the last few days deceiving an entire family just to get an exclusive.

But instead she gets that hug, a mug of hot apple cider spiked with vodka, and a cheesy romantic flick that they put on as background noise while they talk. Mary Margaret is astounded by the tale, gives her a knowing smile when she's done.

"You really like him, don't you?" she asks, and Regina nods, lower lip trembling as she takes a sip of her cider. Mary grabs her hand then.

"It'll all work out. You just have to have hope."

Of course she'd say that. Hope. That's the one thing you can always count Mary Margaret to rely on and try to instill in others, like some innocent fairytale princess that can talk to animals and sing annoying songs about love and happiness at any given moment.

"You get a quarter from the Hope Commission every time you say that word, admit it," Regina grouses. She's too bitter for this today.

"I'm serious. You're doing the right thing by pulling that article, that has to count for something. Have a little faith, show Robin how much you care, and maybe it won't all be as doomed as you think it to be."

"Easier said than done."

"Regina, I know you, and you feel things _deeply_ , you feel things with your whole soul. Don't let anything hold you back. If he's what you want, then tell him. He might change his mind."

Tears fall again, the words striking a chord with her, and Mary holds her while she calms down, tries to breathe and remind herself that she can still repair some of the damage, and she will, she's already decided not to write her article and convinced Sidney Glass to withdraw his own as well (she agreed to bow out of the running for the editor position and tell Ursula to give it to him. A small price to pay, as far as she's concerned, if it means that article never sees the light of day).

After an hour and two mugs of vodka and cider, Mary suddenly jumps out of the couch, grabbing a spare wedding invite from the box on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, I have a quick errand to run," she excuses herself, and Regina shakes herself out of her misery for a moment. Right, her friend is getting married, final preparations must be made.

"I'll go with you," she offers, but Mary shakes her head vehemently.

"No! You stay here, wallow a little longer, it'll help you feel better in the long run. There's homemade guac in the fridge and chips in the cupboard, I'll be back in a bit, okay?" she rattles on as she grabs her coat and keys, exiting the apartment before Regina can respond.

Right. Chips and guac it is, then.

"No."

"The content is mine, I decide if it goes or not."

"You cannot possibly believe I'll let you do this!" her boss barks back.

"I mean it, Mal, if you publish any of it, I quit."

"If you _don't_ let us publish it, you're fired," the blonde retorts.

And that's that.

Her resignation letter is delivered straight to Ursula, bypassing Mal because she refused to receive it, and as terrible as it is for Regina to be unemployed during the holiday season, her peace of mind helps ease that burden, and she feels like she can _breathe_ , because she's kept her promise, and no article on the Locksleys will be on _Kings and Queens_.

It takes her most of the day to get her affairs in order. She apologizes to Ruby, who waves her off.

"Don't worry about it. Mal's taking me on as her assistant, I'll be fine. I'm going to miss you, though!"

"I'll miss you, too," Regina tells her sincerely.

"We're still on for margaritas on Friday nights like usual, right?"

"Definitely," she smiles, happy to know she can count Ruby as a friend.

"Hey, Regina?" she asks as she's about to leave, brown and red tresses flying about when she turns to face her again.

"Yes?" Regina responds.

"I really hope it works out between you and the hunky Locksley guy."

Her well wishes are appreciated, even if they cut through her like a knife.

Her _thank you_ is a soft murmur, sincere but meek, her guilt weighing heavy still.

She's carrying the last of her boxes out of her office bright and early the next morning when she notices Sidney walking in, followed by an all too familiar head of red curls. Zelena.

Sidney doesn't see her, just walks to his office, too focused to care, but Zelena notices her, looks her up and down and throws a wicked smile her way before following the man inside and shutting the door behind her.

The second she's vacated the premises, box of office trinkets still in hand, Regina calls Ruby.

"You're no longer my boss, you know," is the young woman's greeting.

"Why is Zelena Greene in Sidney's office?" Regina barks back, too worried to take part in the banter.

"What?! She is?!"

"Ruby, I need to know what those two are planning."

"You got it, give me an hour, okay?"

They hang up, and Regina heads home with dread and worry at the forefront of her mind and heart, waiting for the call. She drops the box filled with picture frames, mementos and her tiny cactus on her couch when she gets in, fixes herself a cup of tea, fiddling with her phone as she waits, checking her email to pass the time.

There's a new message on her inbox, one from Elle Tinker that reads FANTASTIC! on the subject line, and she smiles despite her worries, taps the icon on her screen and reads the email as it pulls up.

 _You did it, you found me my next story!_

 _It's amazing, definitely not throwing it out the window! Will keep safely under lock and key until we're allowed to publish, I promise._

 _I'm attaching the standard contract for your friend, let me know when we can all get together, and tell him to look over the document so we can address all his concerns during the meeting, okay?_

 _Thank you so much!_

 _-Elle._

For a few blissful seconds, Regina starts to imagine Robin's face when he hears the news. He can be a published author, he can follow his heart and succeed, and the idea makes her so happy that she forgets the current status of things, and then her phone rings, and it all comes crashing down.

"Ruby!"

"She's his source," she says before Regina can even ask.

"His source for what, exactly?!"

"Scandalous article on Walsh Locksley, something about how he cheated on her for months."

"That's a lie!"

"Of course it is, have you seen how fame-hungry that bitch is? I also heard her speaking some nonsense about your Robin not being the Senator's biological son, something about an affair Mrs. Locksley had with the family's best friend."

Is. She. Serious?!

Just when Mrs. Lucas and Marco decide to embrace their feelings for each other, Zelena decides to ruin that, by making the world think Marco slept with the late Mrs. Locksley and fathered Robin?!

"That's bullshit!" Regina exclaims.

"You don't have to tell me, babe, I know. Sidney's writing the article as we speak, he told Mal he'd have a final draft for her before noon tomorrow."

"But we had a deal! We agreed no articles on the Locksley family!"

"Ursula gave him the promotion. I suppose he doesn't care about your deal anymore."

"That little rat!" she spits.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing, I'll handle it. Thanks, Ruby."

She ends the call, prints out Elle's email and contract (because she'll need some good news to give them after the terrible blow she's about to deliver), grabs her things, and sprints out of the apartment. She's at Mary Margaret's place in under half an hour, begs for the keys to David's car, and hugs her friend when she surrenders them without question, wishing her luck as she watches her go.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Walsh asks curiously when he opens the door to find her frantically pacing on their doorstep later that night. Regina makes her way inside without being invited, calls out for Mrs. Lucas, Marco and Robin, frantic. They all hurriedly show up in the foyer at her urgent shouts, and Robin is defensive the second he sees her there, but she notices how his eyes follow her every move, as if drinking her in, committing her to memory.

"They're... they're doing it," she wheezes, breathless from her anxiety and the running from the car to the door. "I-" she gasps, "I made him pull it, but he's doing a new one."

"Calm down, dear," Mrs. Lucas orders, "you're not making sense."

She takes a few breaths, takes the seat Marco offers her while she steadies her breathing, and then turns to them. Robin is looking at the Christmas tree, avoiding her, but the others are staring, waiting for her to talk, so she does. To her surprise, none of them seem shocked.

"We figured this would happen after I broke up with her," Walsh shrugs.

"You broke up with her?"

"Well, there's not much you can do after you catch your future wife trying to hit on your brother, can you?" he informs her matter-of-factly, a little amused, even.

"She didn't," Regina cannot believe Zelena would be that dumb.

"Oh, she did, she also threw the ring into the snow when I broke it off, took Robin and I half the day to find it," Walsh chuckles, and it's contagious somehow, makes her smile a little. Mrs. Lucas is staring at her, contemplating something.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm the last person you'd want to see after finding out what I did, but I had to tell you. I kept my promise, no article was supposed to be published, I quit my job, I blackmailed my coworker so he wouldn't post the engagement piece or anything related to you, and then I saw him with Zelena and, well, I took off. I had to come warn you."

"Thank you, Regina," the woman says in return, smiling knowingly at her.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you the truth sooner," she replies.

"Oh, I knew the truth from the start, dear."

Robin perks up at that, and Regina's eyes widen.

"I was with Marco when he ran that background check on you."

"And you chose not to tell me?!" Robin starts, defensive.

"Why _didn't_ you tell him?" Regina throws in, curious.

"I believed in you. I had this nagging suspicion that you were a good person, I wanted to see if that assumption was correct, so I let things run their course... turns out I was right," Mrs. Lucas smiles, and Regina feels herself smiling back, even as the older woman continues, "However, I had to prepare in the event that you didn't turn out to be the sweet, smart young woman I thought you'd be, so I made some arrangements. Walsh, honey, hand me the phone, would you?"

In seconds she has Ursula herself on the speakerphone, informs her that the Locksleys are the anonymous buyers that she's just sold the majority of her shares to, and of course, that means it would be detrimental to print a fake scandal about the family, wouldn't it? Ursula instantly agrees, tells her she's notifying her editor as she speaks, so that the piece is pulled and Sidney fired for trying to make quick cash out of the false information provided by Zelena.

Just like that, the story's gone, and so is every troublesome piece of information Zelena may have disclosed about the family, according to Ursula, who assures Mrs. Lucas the redheaded bitch is out of their lives for good, with a threat of lawsuit thanks to a confidentiality agreement Mal had her sign when she provided all the details Sidney was going to use on his article. It seems her former boss might've been professionally against Regina's decision, but perhaps morally in favor of it.

Mrs. Lucas hangs up the call after making Ursula promise to rehire Regina, something that has her stumbling over her own words, thanking her and apologizing all at once.

"You realized that you were wrong, and you tried to fix it, to do the right thing. I can't ask you for more than that. You're more than forgiven, Regina, and you are welcome in our house whenever you'd like."

The kindness of her statement shocks her, but one look at Robin tells Regina she won't be setting foot in that house anytime soon. He's still angry.

"Thank you," she tells Mrs. Lucas, refusing her offer to stay for dinner and rising from her chair, citing that she should really get going, she has a long drive back.

Before she leaves, she procures the small folder from her bag and leaves it in the coffee table in front of Robin, who has yet to say a word.

"Your novel is one of the best things I've read in years, and I am so thankful to you for showing it to me," she tells him, leaving him to find out the contents of the folder on his own as she moves to leave. She can only hope he'll be happy with the news of his prospective book deal.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," she whispers with a small smile, and walks out the door.

Regina drives back to New York, watches snow fall onto the streets as dawn begins to touch upon the dark sky, and surrenders to her exhaustion, falling asleep to the sounds of the city waking up outside.


	5. Epilogue

**_Here we go! Last one, for sure this time!_**

 ** _Thank you for coming on this quick Christmasy ride with me! I look forward to your thoughts and comments on the story!_**

 ** _Hope everyone's had an amazing holiday!_**

* * *

The wedding is gorgeous.

A beautiful Christmas Eve ceremony inside a winter wonderland, all in pristine white decor with silver and crystal accents. The centerpieces are large topiary bouquets of white roses, housed in the center of clear, tall crystal candelabra, and flanked on either side of the table by smaller arrangements, also of white roses. The chair and tablecloths are white, with a rose applique pattern etched onto them to add texture, and there are white LED twinkle lights hanging from the smooth black ceiling, emitting a blue-ish glow that reflects on all the white in the room, casting the entire venue into a cool luminescence that adds to the ambiance, makes you feel like you've entered some magical frozen paradise, the kind you only read about in fairytales. It's exactly what Mary Margaret wanted.

And speaking of the bride, there she is with her groom at the center of it all, both gliding slowly across the black and white checkerboard dance floor, holding each other and rocking lazily back and forth to a slow, instrumental version of _The Christmas Song_.

The dress fits Mary (and this wedding) perfectly, turned from the sea of taffeta it once was to a strapless, snow white work of art with flowers embroidered into the top, mixing seamlessly with the flowers on the side of her sash, giving way to the big, fluffy skirt. She looks like a princess, and Regina smiles as she watches David land a loving kiss on his new wife's knuckles.

Perfect wedding.

And yet, she can't bring herself to enjoy it, smooths the black fabric of her figure-hugging dress, fidgets with her hair, bites into a cupcake from the dessert table, all distraction tactics, something for her to do with her hands as she stares wistfully at the happy couple, wishing, longing for a certain handsome writer with a British accent to show up and sweep her off her feet with his lovely kisses and gentle touch.

She fell for Robin Locksley. She fell hard. And no amount of holiday cheer or chips and guac is going to help at this point.

She's cursing her bad decisions again when a throat clears behind her, and she turns, startled, to find Robin standing there, dressed up in a charcoal colored suit, blue-and-white plaid shirt, and navy tie, looking at her with a sheepish grin.

"Wha- How did you know I would be here?" is the first thing she thinks to ask, and he chuckles at her shock, pulls a folded wedding invite from his jacket pocket.

"Got this in the mail a week ago, along with a note saying I should show up if I knew what was good for me, signed by 'Mary Margaret's Dress'."

Regina gasps, amused.

"She didn't," she says, tilting her head to the side.

"She did," he insists, and they laugh amiably, looking to Mary and David as they continue to dance, Mary throwing a wink in Regina's direction when she sees Robin standing next to her.

"I've to admit," Robin adds, bringing her attention back to him, "it looks much better than the last time I saw it."

"Ripped and covered in snow?"

"Mhmm, when you made up that ridiculous runaway bride excuse."

He doesn't mean it as a slight, she can tell, is just trying to make light of the situation so that they can try and get past it, but still, an awkward silence follows, Regina looking anxiously around, not knowing what to say.

"I read the contract... and your friend's email. She has a habit of throwing things out the window?" he asks, and Regina smirks, nods her head, and he tells her that it's a relief, then, that Elle liked his story so much.

"What did your aunt say?" she asks then, curious as to Shirley's reaction.

"She was ecstatic. Told me if this was my dream, then I should go after it."

Regina beams at him, glad that the situation has been cleared up, and that he can now take the path he wants to take, not the one that was chosen for him. She's about to say something to that effect, to congratulate him on finally being free of the pressures of his family legacy, but he speaks before she can.

"She told me the same about going after you," he says, nervous.

 _Oh?_

"And what did you say?" she whispers the question, afraid of the answer he might give her.

"I told her there was no point, that even though you apologized and warned us about Zelena, I was still just a story to you... and then she pointed out one very important detail."

"What's that?" she asks, breathless because he's leaning closer, fingers tentatively trailing down her cheek as his eyes take her in.

"She said, if I was just a story, you would've written it, and you didn't."

"I didn't," she confirms dumbly, not knowing what else to say.

"Right," he responds, and his tone is calm, but his body is restless, his stance apprehensive, as if he's not sure what his next move should be.

"Robin," she decides to ask, unable to handle the anticipation, "why are you here?"

"Because," he starts, gathering his courage in one deep breath before he confesses, "I think I'm falling madly in love with you, Regina Mills, and I wanted to know if you felt the same way."

It's the most beautiful words she's ever heard, pouring out of him with so much soul and warmth that she can't help herself, jumps in his arms and buries her face in the crook of his neck, reveling in having him close again.

"I do," she replies without hesitation, "I do feel the same."

He moves back a little, just enough so that their foreheads touch, his eyes closed as he breathes deeply, relaxing noticeably when she tilts her head up and lands an impromptu kiss on the tip of his nose, his hand moving to hold her face, fingers tangling in her hair as his thumb rubs over her cheek. Her own hand wraps around his wrist, her eyes lost to the sight of his lips, his tongue when it peeks out to wet them, gearing up for the perfect moment she knows they're about to share.

"I missed you," she admits, breathing the words against his lips.

"I missed you, too," Robin confesses easily, "so much."

He trails off, and it's clear that they're done talking, his mouth finding hers in a languid, wonderful dance that radiates heat from her lips to the very tips of her toes, and she's so happy she laughs into the kiss, prompting a chuckle from him as well. They take a moment to look at each other, smiling like fools, and then sink back into it, his lips soft and sweet against hers, and a single thought flits through Regina's mind as she surrenders to his touch and this unbelievable feeling that binds them together.

She has never had a more magical Christmas.


End file.
